


These Dreams

by DiNozzos_Probie



Category: NCIS
Genre: Friendship, M/M, Mass shooting, Romantic Friendship, Team, Warnings May Change, possible stalking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2020-06-25 10:50:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 59,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19744186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DiNozzos_Probie/pseuds/DiNozzos_Probie
Summary: This story has been a work in progress for a long time!  It is NOT Ziva friendly.  It takes place a few months after she rejoins the team (post “Reunion”).Ziva insists on showing Tony up during what should have been a routine observe and report assignment, and things go horribly wrong.  In the aftermath, Tony finds out who has his six and who doesn’t.Warning:  Adult themes.  Not sure how explicit this will get, but you’ve been warned just in case.Disclaimer:  I do not own any recognizable characters or places.  I receive no money for this work of fiction and no copyright infringement is intended.





	1. Chapter 1

* * *

It wasn't a pristine, crystalline beach in Turks and Caicos, Grand Cayman, or Jamaica, but lounging by his swimming pool was close enough to a tropical paradise for Tony's immediate needs. Eighty-five degrees and sunny with a light breeze made for a perfect July afternoon to catch some rays and relax for the first time in weeks. The blended aroma of coconut and shea butter hung in the air. All that was missing was a fruity, tropical cocktail adorned with a little paper umbrella. Instead, Tony opted for a tall glass of brewed iced tea with a twist of lemon.

The rooftop pool was one of the reasons Tony had plunked down nearly his entire savings account balance as a down payment on his Georgetown condo. Well-maintained potted palms, ferns, and tall grasses gave the otherwise sterile concrete and tile patio surround a tropical feel. Deck chairs and seating areas with raised fire pits made it perfect for large gatherings. A full wet bar was available but it was not stocked. If you wanted beer, wine, or cocktails, you had to bring your own booze and ice. Strategically placed landscape lighting created an ambient glow around the lighted pool for evening enjoyment.

Tony pushed his sunglasses down on his nose and sighed as a pretty young woman sashayed past him like a model on the runway in Milan, a teasing, saccharin-laced "Hey, Tony" dripping from her lips. Having long ago put his serial skirt chasing days behind him, Tony ignored the blatant performance being put on for his benefit and smiled politely as she made a production of unbelting her short silky cover and letting it slide down her arms to reveal flawless golden skin and the tiniest bikini he had ever seen.

He was grateful that she chose a deck chair at the far end of the long pool instead of the one next to him. She had been anything but shy in the past when it came to trying to entice him into partaking in a little afternoon delight, but he simply wasn't interested in anything she had to offer. Becky? Brittany? Her name escaped him, not that it really mattered. She was just like all the rest. Besides, rumors abound that she had a sugar daddy in a position of great power up on the Hill.

Tony's upscale neighborhood spanned four city blocks and was close enough to DuPont Circle that it had become a haven for successful professionals looking for a vibrant nightlife. Trendy five-star restaurants, small bistros, corner pubs, and swanky nightclubs lined the streets. There was something for everyone. Tony was an occasional patron of some of the more elite establishments that catered to his varied tastes. Men or women, it didn’t matter; he never bothered to get names or phone numbers, and if a sliver of paper or folded cocktail napkin found its way into his pocket it was discarded immediately upon discovery. No strings, no regrets.

He wanted and needed more than random hookups, and by God he deserved more than settling for one-night stands. More and more those meaningless encounters left him feeling empty, but apparently a lasting meaningful relationship was not in the cards. Every woman who crossed his path had an agenda and the games were always the same, games he no longer wanted to play. The few men thrown in the mix were nothing more than time wasted and served as a distraction.

Pushing his shades back up on his nose and inserting his ear buds, Tony closed his eyes and let his mind drift as Anne Wilson's sultry voice crooned in his ears. Though it was his favorite Heart song, "These Dreams" struck a chord and hit too close to home for comfort. The lyrics made Tony's heart ache with a profound longing for something and someone unattainable.

 _There's something out there_  
_I can't resist_  
_I need to hide away from the pain_  
_There's something out there_  
_I can't resist_  
_The sweetest song is silence_  
_That I've ever heard_  
_Funny how your feet_  
_In dreams never touch the earth_  
_In a wood full of princes_  
_Freedom is a kiss_  
_But the prince hides his face_  
_From dreams in the mist_

 _These dreams go on when I close my eyes_  
_Every second of the night I live another life_  
_These dreams that sleep when it's cold outside_  
_Every moment I'm awake the further I'm away_

For longer than he was willing to admit, Tony had been haunted by a recurring dream of a ‘prince in the mist’, and in his dreams the prince was always a shadowy vision of Gibbs. Abby, the oracle of all things mystical, would know exactly what the dreams meant, but Tony didn't dare ask her. She saw too much, felt too much, and knew too much. Inviting her to delve into his fantasy world and dreamscapes would bring with it a host of questions he wasn't willing or able to answer.

It didn't help that Gibbs had been sending mixed signals for years. More than once Tony had found himself on the receiving end of Gibbs' penetrating stare. It was unnerving and an effective weapon. Tony had seen it used to secure rambling confessions from a number of dirt bags over the years; a few of them were even brought to tears. Had Gibbs caught him staring or God forbid leering at him? Was Gibbs curious or, even better, interested? Tony didn't dare hope, but it never stopped him from blushing at the thought, which seemed to be a source of great amusement for the object of his desire. That smug smirk! Tony couldn't decide if he wanted to smack it or kiss it off the man's lips.

The man was an enigma and frustrating as hell to figure out. Even trying to gauge his mood from day to day after a decade of working closely with him was near impossible. Gibbs gave nothing away. What he was thinking or feeling at any given moment was a complete mystery.

Swallowing down a pang of sadness and regret as the next track began to play, Tony hummed along to Little River Band's "Cool Change" and let the harmonies wash over him. Never mind that he should be behind his desk writing up his final case report. Final?

"Yep, pretty likely," Tony thought to himself.

For all intents and purposes he had walked off the job just a few hours ago. There was no official announcement, no formal letter of resignation, or even a hastily scrawled Post-It note. Tony just grabbed his badge, holstered his Sig, and left without a backward glance or a word to anyone. There would be hell to pay when Gibbs realized he was gone; of that he had no doubt, but he had finally reached his breaking point. It was time to move on.

 _Now that my life is so prearranged,_  
_I know that it's time for a cool change_

Tony's long fingers danced over the freshly healed jagged four-inch scar running down his right side just below his rib cage. He had earned a much deeper wound to his left thigh during a desperate struggle to wrestle a K-Bar knife from a Marine with easily three inches of height and at least fifty pounds on him. They were the latest in a career filled with scars, both physical and emotional.

The physical scars would heal in time like they always did, but the emotional damage was becoming more and more difficult to hide or ignore. He loved his job. Hell, he was all about the job, but he was tired of being sacrificed by his partner who was supposed to have his six. Ziva's latest attempt to show him up had disastrous results but once again Vance let her slide without holding her in any way accountable. As long as the job got done Vance didn't seem to care to what extent protocols or orders were ignored.

* * *

An old, abandoned warehouse across the river in Anacostia had been teeming for weeks with nefarious characters coming and going at all hours of the day and night. The rundown waterfront was a rough, high crime area known for drug dealing and prostitution. A recent uptick in the amount of suspicious activity had caught the attention of local law enforcement, but they were ill-equipped to handle it out of the local precinct.

Based on information from a reliable informant, large quantities of guns and drugs were being sold and traded. Since the transactions involved interstate transportation of illegal contraband it became federal jurisdiction and the FBI was called in.

It wasn't long before the feds were able to arrest a low-level local dealer during an undercover sting. Hoping to avoid a long sentence on federal drug and illegal gun possession charges, the suspect gave up the name of the ring-leader - Marine Staff Sergeant Joseph "Joey Pats" Pantangelo, who just happened to be the grandson of Anthony “Tony Boy” Pantangelo, a Capo in Newark, New Jersey’s infamous Martelli mob.

Having Marine Corps. involvement gave NCIS concurrent jurisdiction. Knowing it would be a massive operation, Vance called the Director of the FBI to offer NCIS’s assistance. FBI Supervisory Agent Tobias Fornell reluctantly accepted, not that he was given much of a choice, with the caveat that the FBI would be calling the shots and would get credit for the collar.

Gibbs and Vance both understood the need for the FBI to get all the good press they could get. They had been taking a beating in the press due to some high-profile cases where sloppy investigations failed to garner convictions. Gibbs and Vance were more than happy to let Fornell deal with the reporters, cameras, and having multiple microphones shoved in his face.

“Whatever you say, Tobias,” Gibbs said with a chuckle as he shook the hand of his would-be nemesis.

As Fornell turned to leave, Vance decided to knock him down a peg or two.

“Just so you know, Agent Fornell, if this all goes to hell it’s on you. NCIS is happy to assist in any way we can, but win or lose this is all on the FBI.”

* * *

It started out as a simple observe and report assignment, but things went south in a hurry. Tony had been partnered with Ziva on the 2300 to 0500 shift. Never one to possess the patience required for a surveillance-only stakeout, Ziva quickly grew bored sitting in the nondescript van for hours on end watching a bank of monitors. Tony manned the camera and got clear pictures of all the major players using a long zoom lens. Ziva was tasked with running license plates on any vehicles arriving at or leaving the warehouse.

Three days into the stakeout, the informant had gotten word to the FBI that a big shipment of drugs was due to arrive around midnight, and that a large stolen truck was enroute to deliver hundreds of old guns and grenade launchers that had been tagged for destruction. Unbeknownst to the dealers, each weapon carried a tiny tracker on it as insurance.

A team of FBI agents were holed up across the street on the top floor of a rundown 5-story building to provide additional surveillance and backup. Their location was perfect and afforded Fornell and his tactical team a clear view of the entire waterfront area surrounding the warehouse. All points of ingress and egress to the warehouse were covered as agents waited for the signal to advance on the warehouse.

The FBI Director joined Vance in MTAC to watch as final preparations for a raid on the warehouse were being made in the field. All communications were routed through NCIS and broadcast in MTAC so that the two Directors could monitor everything in real time.

It should have been an easy knock and enter mission, but suddenly all hell broke loose.

“DiNutzo, what the hell are you doing?” Fornell yelled into the mic of his headset. “Where’s David going?”

There was no response from Tony. He had un-holstered his gun and jumped out of the back of the surveillance van in pursuit of Ziva, who had taken off on foot after seeing Sgt. Pantangelo and an unidentified associate arrive with the truck.

“Ziva, wait!” Tony called out, but his plea was ignored.

Moments later he felt a sharp blow to the back of his head. He collapsed in a heap on the wet asphalt ten yards from the warehouse loading bay door.

Ziva didn’t react to Tony calling out or him being ambushed by Sgt. Pantagelo. She stopped long enough to see Tony fall to the ground and have his Sig yanked from his hand. She did nothing as the second man came over and delivered a series of kicks to Tony’s side. Instead of turning her weapon on his assailants, Tony watched through a fog of confusion as Ziva took cover behind an old rusted car as she continued to advance on the warehouse. Was she smiling or sneering at him as he he was dragged away?

The last thing Tony heard before losing consciousness was Fornell barking to his team, “Move, move, move! Agent down! Shit! We’re gonna need more backup.”

* * *

Being blindsided, pistol whipped, disarmed and held hostage had not only been a huge blow to Tony's ego it had shaken his confidence. Further, it put his ability to trust his partner into question - again.

Thank God the Cavalry, in the form of a very concerned and pissed off Leroy Jethro Gibbs, showed up when he did! A double-tap to the chest brought the ordeal to a spectacular end.

When Gibbs got to him, with McGee and Fornell providing cover, Tony was a mess. There was sticky coagulating blood in his hair from scalp lacerations. His jaw was bruised and his lower lip was bleeding profusely. Tony was cuffed to an old radiator in the corner of the room. He was wheezing and struggling for breath. His shirt had been ripped from his body and angry purple bruises were beginning to stand out where he had been kicked. His left eye was bruised and nearly swollen shut.

Blood poured through Tony’s fingers as he tried to keep pressure on a long cut on his right side. Gibbs grabbed and balled up Tony’s tattered shirt and used it to apply additional pressure. McGee rushed over and applied pressure to a stab wound on Tony’s left thigh. Fornell was on the comm yelling for an ambulance.

“It’s okay, Tony. We’re here. We got ‘ya,” McGee muttered.

“Ziva. Where’s Ziva?” Tony mumbled in response.

Gibbs was livid but managed to keep his anger in check.

“Don’t you worry about Ziva. Let’s just get you out of here. You let me worry about Ziva,” Gibbs growled.

What concerned Gibbs more than his physical injuries was that Tony refused to look at him. He kept jerking his head away during Gibbs’ cursory examination to tally his injuries as they waited for the EMTs to arrive. Using what little strength he could muster, Tony pushed Gibbs away.

“Leave me alone! I’m fine,” Tony protested.

Shocked by the outburst, Gibbs held his hands up in surrender.

“Okay, Tony, okay. Just relax. The EMTs are on the way.”

Tony had been beaten and threatened with torture after being dragged into an old office in the warehouse. The com link affixed to the cuff of Tony's jacket was an open channel and broadcast the graphic details of his crazed captor's plans for him. Gibbs heard it all, how Tony was “a pretty boy”, how Pantangelo thought they “could have a little fun” while they waited, and “just wait until the rest of the boys get a look at you”. So did a dozen or so FBI and NCIS agents, including Fornell and McGee.

In the end, the whole mission was a bust. Ziva going off script yielded nothing but a low-level runner who they might be able to book on a minor possession charge. He was holding only a small baggie of marijuana. The truck that was supposed to deliver the big shipment of drugs was empty, and the other truck suspected of being full of weapons had been seized at the gate and never left the base. To no one’s surprise, the informant had apparently fled town the day before and was laying low somewhere.

As embarrassing and humiliating as that whole episode was, Ziva's spiteful comments that Tony "loved the attention" he got hurt worse and cut deeper than the knife wounds inflicted upon him.

Reading Ziva's preliminary report was an even harder pill to swallow. By disobeying orders, she had set off a whole chain of events culminating in the death of a Metro Detective working undercover, and landing him and two FBI agents in the hospital. In her version of the story, Tony was to blame - for all of it.

* * *

"Going for coffee," Gibbs announced to no one in particular as he pulled open the desk drawer to retrieve his Sig. He checked his watch and noted the time. 1230. He had thirty minutes until his dreaded but long-overdue meeting with Vance and he needed time to think and clear his head. It was likely to get contentious, which seemed par for the course these days, so a large cup of his beloved dark-roast Jamaican blend was definitely in order.

Sitting on a bench in the welcome shade of a massive leafy pin oak tree on the vast grounds, Gibbs took a healthy swig of the hot, rich brew and contemplated what he needed to say to Vance and more importantly how to say it. He needed to proceed judiciously. Gibbs may not play the politics game well but he could be diplomatic when necessary, especially when the stakes were high. He could also be a hot-headed one-man wrecking crew when necessary to protect his team.

His once cohesive team was coming apart at the seams, and a major change was in order to keep it from unraveling beyond repair. Over the course of the last two weeks, Gibbs had noticed building tension in the bullpen. The whole team dynamic was off. Ziva strutted around, unrelenting in her quest for attention and admiration while Tony remained dangerously quiet. McGee seemed lost and as unsure of himself as he had been from his first day on the team.

Gibbs wanted to kick himself for letting things go so far. Healthy competition between his agents had always brought out the best in each of them. The intent always had been for them to push each other to become better, well-rounded investigators but the end result had become a dangerous game pitting Tony and Ziva against each other with McGee stuck in the middle. It needed to end, and it needed to end now.

Ziva had made no secret of her distrust and disrespect for Tony. It had first manifest itself during Tony's brief tenure as team leader and was further brought to the fore after the Rivkin fiasco. Her misplaced sense of betrayal fueled a need to assert herself as Gibbs' heir-apparent despite Tony's seniority and vastly superior skills. As far as Gibbs was concerned, Tony was far and away the best agent he had ever had the privilege to work with.

Tony had done an admirable job of hiding the hurt and betrayal he felt after risking his life, yet again, to bring Ziva back from Somalia. She remained cold and distant for months, but with the passage of time and an abundance of patience the team managed to get back on track, at least for a short while. It was now all coming undone.

Gibbs sighed as he looked down at the stack of case reports sitting on the bench next to him. He had read them enough times that he could probably recite them verbatim if called upon to do so. All were well-written and concise as he had come to expect, but one stood out - Ziva's.

Righteous anger bubbled to the surface as Gibbs recalled the events of the ill-fated raid that had left a Metro cop dead and two FBI agents fighting for their lives. It was only by the grace of God that Tony escaped the fray with relatively minor injuries. If only he had arrived on the scene five minutes earlier.

Gibbs' watch read 1250. Ten minutes. In ten short minutes, everything would change. Gibbs gathered up the pile of folders and with them tucked securely under his arm, he strode with a sense of purpose across the commons. He tossed back the last of his coffee and threw the empty cup into the trash. Inside the main lobby, Gibbs passed through the security checkpoint before ducking into the nearest stairwell.

Throwing the door open and breezing into Vance's office without awaiting formal announcement, Gibbs allowed the door to slam shut before approaching Vance's desk. He stared down at his boss, who was busy worrying a toothpick.

"I want her gone," Gibbs announced without preamble.

Vance slowly eased back into his oversized leather chair and steepled his fingers. In his deadpan monotone, he replied, "By all means, come on in Agent Gibbs. And I take it you are referring to Agent David?"

Gibbs grabbed the edge of the desk, his knuckles turning white as he fought to control his emotions.

"You know damn well who I'm talking about," he growled with clenched teeth, leaning over to loom over Vance.

"She disobeyed my direct order to observe and report, and damn near got DiNozzo killed. Tony had no choice but to go in after her and ended up in the ER with two stab wounds. He’s going to live. Two of Fornell's men ended up in the hospital, and an undercover Metro detective, with a wife and a kid, is dead because she couldn't wait five damn minutes for me and McGee to get there with the warrant!"

Vance rubbed his temples in the hopes of staving off a migraine. It wasn't working. He stood and came around the desk to confront Gibbs face to face.

"You're putting me in a tough position, Gibbs. Our relationship with the Israelis, especially Mossad, is already shaky. I don't want to give Eli David any reason to stop cooperating or sharing intel with us. We're close to busting up a cell outside of Beirut, and we’re going to need Mossad's help."

Gibbs stepped dangerously close and pinned Vance with a glare.

"I don't give a damn about Mossad or Beirut! The only thing I do give a damn about right now is my team."

Vance took a couple of steps in an attempt to retreat back behind his desk.

"I need time, Gibbs. I need solid evidence before I can do anything about Ziva. I can suspend her, pending an internal investigation, but that's all I can do right now."

It was the last straw as far as Gibbs was concerned, but Vance was adamant that a proper case for dereliction of duty and insubordination be built against Ziva before he would act to remove her. Gibbs knew that Vance was in some odd way beholden to Eli David, but he'd damned if his team would be put at risk because of misplaced loyalty.

"Then do it! Start an investigation! Did you even read the reports? Ziva puts all the blame for her screw up on DiNozzo!"

Gibbs picked up the reports from the desk and waved them at Vance before tossing them back down. "Read 'em, Leon!" he barked.

He knew he was bordering on insubordination, but to hell with it. His team and Tony were worth fighting for. When Vance didn't respond and refused to meet his accusatory gaze, Gibbs cocked his head.

"Or are you hoping you can pin this all on DiNozzo? Get rid of him once and for all? Dammit, Leon, he's the best damn agent you've got, but I know you'd rather have McGee in his chair. McGee's good, but he lacks a cop's intuition not to mention the experience Tony has. I don't have a clue where Ziva fits in with your plans, but I'm not sacrificing my best man for her, or McGee - or you!"

Vance turned the tables and advanced on Gibbs. "That's enough, Agent Gibbs! You are way out of line. In case you forgot, I make the decisions around here, and until I say otherwise Agent David stays right where she is. DiNozzo can deal with it or not, I really don't care. You do what you have to do, but don't you forget who you're talking to. You're dismissed," Vance shouted.

Gibbs narrowed his eyes and shook his head in disgust. After a brief stare down he left, throwing the door open with enough force to put a deep dent the wall.

* * *

McGee arrived in the bullpen just as Tony, head down and slumping against the wall, disappeared from view behind the elevator's shiny metal doors. "Where's Tony going? We get a lead?" he asked.

Ziva shrugged but failed to completely erase the lingering smirk on her lips.

"I do not know, McGee. We were talking and he just got up and left. He did not say where he was going."

A feeling of dread settled in McGee's stomach. It was no secret that Ziva took great delight in pushing Tony's buttons. Quick, biting jabs had become her weapon of choice, especially when Tony was at his most vulnerable. The good-natured teasing that took place during Kate's tenure had been replaced with remarks dripping with venom that intended to inflict as much emotional pain as possible. Kate may have been snarky and borderline cruel at times, but unlike Ziva she never intentionally meant to hurt him.

McGee scowled and crossed his arms across his chest.

"Talking about what?" he asked as he slowly crossed the bullpen to stand in front of her desk.

Ziva leaned back in her chair and replied, "The case, McGee. I merely pointed out that Tony seemed to enjoy all of the attention he got. That is all."

"That's all?" McGee shouted.

A team walking past the bullpen stopped in their tracks at McGee's outburst. He muttered an apology, and when they were safely out of earshot he leaned over Ziva's desk and pinned her in place with his best attempt at a death glare.

Lowering his voice to a menacing whisper he growled, "How dare you! He could have been killed, Ziva! You screwed up, and if Gibbs and I hadn't gotten to Tony when we did...," he trailed off not wanting to give voice to the horrific consequences of what could have happened.

Her eyes flashing, Ziva leaned forward and shot back, "I will not apologize for doing my job. I saw an opportunity and I took it. It is not my fault that Tony hesitated to follow my lead. If he had been paying attention, like a good agent, he would not have ended up being captured. You cannot blame me for that."

McGee slowly stood and gaped down at the stranger sitting behind Ziva's desk. Her cold dark eyes held no remorse or concern. It seemed incredible that after disobeying direct orders she could sit there unrepentant and defend her reckless actions without any regard whatsoever for Tony. McGee just shook his head and returned to his desk. He had nothing more to say.

* * *

Gibbs skipped down the stairs cursing under his breath. Rounding the corner at the bottom of the stairs, he stopped when he saw the confrontation taking place between the two junior agents. With customary stealth, he crept close enough to overhear the final part of the exchange. Tony was nowhere to be seen, and Gibbs' gut began to churn.

He was not surprised by Ziva's defiance, it had been her modus operandi from day one, nor was he surprised by McGee's defense of Tony. Despite years of relentless hazing and teasing, McGee respected Tony. He may have followed Ziva's lead and challenged Tony during his short tenure as team leader in his absence, but he was more like a petulant teenager pushing the boundaries with a parent than being part of a concerted effort to bring him down.

Once the undercover double-life Tony had been living came to light, McGee was the first to apologize and offer his friendship and support. His remorse was genuine. It had taken a dressing down by a half-drunk Jimmy Palmer, the only person who had stood by Tony during that difficult time, to make him see the error of his ways. It ended up being the catalyst that forged the close brotherly relationship Tony and McGee shared today.

Gibbs cracked a tight smile as he stood and watched Ziva turn her attention to her computer while McGee returned to his desk shaking his head.

Schooling his features into a no-nonsense scowl, Gibbs stormed into the bullpen catching his agents unaware.

"Where the hell is DiNozzo?" Gibbs barked.

"Uh, not sure, Boss," McGee stammered.

"He left," Ziva announced.

Gibbs dropped into his chair and made a brief and characteristically terse phone call. He slammed down the receiver and glared at Ziva.

"Well, where did he go, Officer David?"

Ziva's smug grin disappeared at being called by her former title. Squaring her shoulders in response to the slight, she stated calmly, "He did not say where he was going."

Narrowing his eyes in silent challenge, Gibbs was saved from instigating a confrontation in the middle of the bullpen when his phone rang. A flashing red light signaled that the call was from Vance. Across the room McGee released the breath he had been holding.

Picking up the receiver, Gibbs continued to glare at Ziva.

"Yeah, Gibbs."

After a couple of minutes, Gibbs announced, “I’ll send her right up, Director.”

"It seems Director Vance would like a word with you," he announced as he hung up the phone, trying not to let a smug grin soften his gruff tone.

Ziva rolled her chair back and stood. She slowly came around her desk until she stood at attention in front of Gibbs.

"May I ask why the Director wishes to see me?" Ziva asked, unable to hide the slight nervous quiver in her voice.

"You'll have to ask him," Gibbs replied. Pointing his pen in the direction of the stairs, he stated, "He really doesn't like to be kept waiting."

Ziva hesitated for a brief moment before turning and storming out of the bullpen. Gibbs smirked as she disappeared behind the partition wall. He schooled his features again when she appeared on the first landing of the stairs.

McGee began to fidget. When Ziva was gone, he looked up to find Gibbs looking at him. Bending under the piercing gaze, McGee swallowed and pushed away from his desk.

"Boss, I know this is none of my business, but...," McGee stammered, cautiously approaching Gibbs.

"But what, McGee?"

"Ziva. I don't know what her problem is lately, but I - honestly, Boss, I don't trust her. I think she's out to bring Tony down, and I can't figure out why," McGee stated, finishing with a shrug.

Gibbs leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and sighed. He knew why.

"Yeah, McGee, I know. I think Vance knows now too."

McGee hazarded a glance around the squad room to make sure no one was listening in. He cleared his throat to get Gibbs' attention. When he had it, he leaned in and spoke just above a whisper.

"Boss, I caught a glimpse of Tony in the elevator when he left. He looked really upset. I tried to call him, but he’s not answering his cell. Um I think, you know, maybe you should go talk to him."

The statement was left hanging as a question.

Gibbs sighed as he sat forward until he was almost nose to nose with McGee.

"What did she say to him?"

McGee swallowed hard and braced himself for Gibbs' reaction.

"I didn't hear it, obviously, but she said she told him he seemed to, um, enjoy the attention he got from - Staff Sergeant Pantangelo."

Gibbs' eyes flashed with unbridled fury causing McGee to back away. It was a reflex action that had historically served him well. When it came to the team's safety, especially where Tony was concerned, there was no telling what Gibbs would do. Abby may have been declared Gibbs’ favorite, but McGee wasn’t so sure anymore.

Taking a deep breath to once again tamp down his rising anger, Gibbs jumped from his seat sending his chair crashing into the credenza behind his desk. McGee's eyes went wide when he found a very pissed off Gibbs standing toe to toe with him in the middle of the bullpen. There must have been 100 eyes trained on the two of them.

"Go home, McGee. I'm going to go find DiNozzo. Back here at 0700 Monday," Gibbs said, his voice dangerously calm.

McGee glanced at his watch and furrowed his brow. It was only 2:30 in the afternoon.

"But, but, but, Boss, what do you want me to tell Ziva?” McGee asked.

"Don't tell her a damn thing. Look, McGee, we're gonna be one short for a while. Ziva is suspended pending an investigation. She's not going to be too happy about being escorted out, so I suggest you high-tail it out of here," Gibbs stated, patting McGee on the shoulder.

"Suspended? Wow! Did she, did she really blame Tony in her report?"

At Gibbs' peeved expression, McGee held up a placating hand.

"C'mon Boss, you know Tony. He takes the blame for everything, even when it's not his fault. He's taking one for the team again, isn't he? It's her word against his, again, right?"

When Gibbs didn't answer, McGee stepped back and shook his head.

"No. No way. I'm not going to let him. Not again. He's not just a colleague. He's my partner and my friend. Tell me what I can do, Boss. How can I help?"

Gibbs caught sight of Ziva being led down the stairs by two guards out of the corner of his eye. Vance nodded at him as he followed the trio into the bullpen. No words were exchanged, but Ziva shot daggers at Gibbs and McGee.

Stepping closer to McGee, Gibbs said softly, "Just keep standing by him, Tim. Let Tony know you have his six."

McGee nodded. Together he and Gibbs stood and watched as one of the guards secured Ziva's Sig and credentials from her desk and handed them to Vance. She wasn’t in cuffs, but by her expression it was clear that she had already been relieved of the various weapons concealed on her body. Ziva grabbed her purse then paused to glare at her teammates one last time before one guard grabbed her upper arm to escort her to the elevator.

Watching Ziva shoot an ominous look at them, McGee asked, "You think she'll do anything? You know, to get back at you – or Tony?"

Rounding his desk, Gibbs grabbed his badge and holstered his Sig.

"I really don’t know, McGee. Right now she just needs to calm down, but do me a favor and go let Ducky and Abby and I guess Palmer know what's going on. Tell them to watch their backs, just in case. Hey, but first can you track DiNozzo's phone?"

McGee grinned. "You got it, Boss!"

Vance spoke up. “No, there will be security details and don’t argue with me. David is a loose cannon. If she gets Eli or Mossad to back her play, she could do anything. Gibbs, I’ll leave it to you to set up details for you and DiNozzo. I’ll make sure the others are taken care of.”

A few keystrokes later, McGee stood and announced, "Tony didn't get far, Boss. Actually, he's at home."

Gibbs didn't bother with his usual "that's good work" praise. Instead he rolled his eyes and huffed out a hint of a laugh. He turned to walk away, but only made it two steps before McGee called him back.

“Hey Boss?”

"What, McGee?" Gibbs barked.

McGee crumbled under the impatient glare. It was now or never. Scrubbing a hand down his face, he stood tall in front of Gibbs.

"Just do me a favor and take care of him, Tony I mean. Boss, Gibbs, I think you're the only one who can."

At Gibbs' confused expression, McGee sighed. Vance picked up on the awkward tension and used the opportunity to place calls for security details from Tony’s desk phone.

McGee lowered his voice. "You're the only one he trusts. I know you and Tony are close. How close, I don't know and I don't care. I mean, you know, I care, but if you and Tony are more than friends, I …."

His mouth wisely snapped shut before he said something that would cross an arbitrary line. McGee took a sudden interest in the tops of his shoes as he waited for some reaction. He did not expect what came next.

Gibbs dropped his head and shook it ruefully.

"Just between you and me, yeah, Tony and me, we are close. It's not what you're thinking or what Abby is probably hoping, but I do care about him – probably more than I should. I'll make sure he's okay and let him know what's going on with Ziva. Don't worry I'll take care of him. See you Monday, McGee, and – thanks."

After an exchange of understanding nods, Gibbs turned and strode purposefully to the elevator. McGee smiled as he watched him step onto the elevator. "Go get him, Boss," he muttered under his breath.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A BIG thank you for the faves, new followers, and reviews! I appreciate you all very much.
> 
> Chapter summary: Tony and Gibbs have a little chat! Ziva is on the loose, Tony is mad as hell at everyone, and Gibbs just wants to make sure his SFA is safe. What will Ziva do, and to what lengths will Gibbs go to stop her? Will McGee end up being an unwitting hero?
> 
> Disclaimer: The usual - I don't own any recognizable characters or places. I am making no money, and no copyright infringement intended.

* * *

Tony felt Gibbs' presence as he lay there with his eyes shut behind his shades.

_"There is a great disturbance in the Force. I can feel it."_

Gibbs cleared his throat. He was beginning to sweat in the July heat. Dockers, undershirt, polo shirt, and a sports coat weren't exactly idea apparel for the setting. As his undershirt became damp with sweat, he stood and admired the tanned, glistening body of his much younger second in command. Damn.

He would have to revert back to his post-basic training days to look as good in swim trunks as Tony did. Hours of daily Marine Corp training, running on the beach, and playing in the surf with Shannon and Kelly on his down time while stationed at Camp Pendleton had kept Gibbs in impressive fighting form. He was still in good shape for a man his age, but he doubted his physique would turn many heads these days.

"DiNozzo," Gibbs said softly, but with the infuriating undertone of an order; an order that could not be disobeyed.

Tony yanked out his ear buds, then lowered his sunglasses and shaded his eyes with his hand. Squinting against the glaring July sun, he could easily make out the form of a very sullen, pissed off, concerned - he couldn't quite describe the look - Gibbs.

"Hey Boss," Tony chirped, flashing his fakest smile. "What brings you here?"

Gibbs pulled a nearby lounge chair closer. He removed his jacket and flung it over the back then sat on the edge facing Tony.

"I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

Tony looked Gibbs dead in the eye.

"Why wouldn't I be? I'm a big boy, but thanks for stopping by," Tony said.

Before he could put his ear buds back in, Gibbs grabbed his hand.

Tony flinched at the contact and jerked his hand away. The ear buds fell from his hand and dropped to the concrete.

"What the hell?" Tony demanded.

"Tony, look at me," Gibbs requested keeping his voice soft.

Tony huffed but did as instructed.

"What?" he snapped.

Gibbs could only guess why Tony was still so hostile toward him. He knew Tony had a stubborn streak and it was on full display. Tony was obviously looking for a fight, but Gibbs wasn't about to take the bait.

"I talked to Vance. Ziva's been suspended pending an investigation. We're going to get to the bottom of this, but in the meantime I have no idea what she might do. Thought I should give you a heads up," Gibbs replied.

Tony blinked a few times.

"You could have just called and told me that. Thanks for the warning, but you didn't need to come all the way over here."

"Yeah, well check your messages," Gibbs snapped. "I tried calling but you didn't pick up. You probably have at least a dozen voicemails from McGee, too."

Tony nodded. He knew he was acting like a brat, but he didn't care.

"About that, look Gibbs, I'm done. But since you're here you in the middle of the day you probably figured that out. I'm guessing McGee ratted me out?" Tony asked.

Gibbs rolled his eyes.

"Nobody ratted you out. McGee just told me he saw you leave. Said you looked upset. He's worried about you, and frankly so am I. Ziva didn't look too happy when she was disarmed and the guards escorted her out. I'm worried that she's going to blame you, and …"

"Get revenge?" Tony asked with a nervous chuckle.

His anger began to rise and he turned to his primary weapon, sarcasm. He sat up and turned so he was facing Gibbs. He flung off his sunglasses and took a deep breath before speaking.

"But she would never do anything like that, right? She's better than all of us silly Americans with our laws and procedures and rules. She can just go home to Daddy and Mossad; the returning hero, or heroine I guess is more accurate. She sure made us, well me, really, look like a complete idiot, didn't she? I get hurt and humiliated, a couple of feebs end up in the hospital, and a DC cop ends up dead, but as per usual Ziva just gets to walk away like it's no big deal. What happened couldn't possibly be her fault, right? Just another day ending in "y". Am I even close? Is that how this is gonna play out - again? Ziva goes rogue and no one does a damn thing about it? Blame it all on DiNozzo, the frat boy fuckup? Did the Toothpick even read my report, or does he actually believe her bullshit? Not that it matters, I guess, but who is she gonna get killed next?"

"Are you done?" Gibbs asked. He was a patient man by nature, but Tony's rant was pushing him to the limit.

Tony spat, "Not even close. You can leave now. I'll be sure to keep an eye out for any ninja assassins that come knocking on my door."

"Just promise me you'll be careful, and let me know if she contacts you or shows up?" Gibbs implored.

"Tony, you didn't see her. She was pissed. You, McGee, even Abby, Ducky, and Palmer are getting security details just in case she goes off. Vance doesn't want to take any chances. He's going to try and see if Eli David can do anything to reel Ziva in, but he doubts it. I don't think she'll will go after Vance's wife or kids since he already has 24/7 security."

"And what about you? No security detail for the great and powerful Gibbs?" Tony snarked as he stood and gathered his things. He'd had enough for one day.

Gibbs picked up the earbuds that had skittered under Tony's chair and held them out to him.

Tony sighed and let Gibbs drop them into his hand. He hated "nice Gibbs". There was so much he wanted and needed to say, and so much anger left to vent, but it was nearly impossible to do when the object of much of his anger was being so conciliatory. It was easier to be mad at Gibbs than face the humiliation the man he so admired had witnessed. Tony hated appearing weak or vulnerable, so he chose to lash out. The problem was, he just didn't have the energy for a pointless fight.

"Thanks. I'm going in. You want to come in for a glass of iced tea or something stronger?" he offered, more out of gracious habit than anything.

Gibbs nodded curtly. "Sure, tea sounds great."

* * *

Tony poured fresh brewed tea over a tower of ice cubes and handed the glass to Gibbs, who nodded his thanks.

Leaning on his kitchen island, Tony said tiredly, "I'm sorry. You didn't deserve that and I shouldn't have gone off on you. It's easy to blame you, even though none of what happened is your fault. I'm just sorry for, you know, screwing up - again."

"DiNozzo, you did not screw up! You were doing your job and backing up your partner like you always have. She's the one who disobeyed my direct orders, Tony. Ziva is the one who screwed up. McGee and I were only five minutes out. Fornell, Vance, hell everyone knew we were on our way with warrants and plenty of backup. We had agents everywhere to take down the whole operation, but she blew it. None of what happened is your fault. Are you listening to me? None of it."

Gibbs hoped his sincerity came through. Tony's exasperated sigh was an affirmative answer.

"Yeah, I hear you. Doesn't change anything, though. Ziva obviously still hates me. I don't trust her, and I'm tired of getting the shit kicked out of me because of her. Remember when we broke in and went after fake Domino during the great mole hunt? Remember when she and I were undercover as married assassins and I got beat all to hell? Remember that time you sent us to bring some redneck in for questioning and the next thing I know she tries to take on a bunch of drunk rednecks and I get dragged into a big bar fight? And let's not forget how she knocked me down, broken arm and all, pulled her gun on me, and threatened to put a bullet or two in my leg, or worse in my chest, after turning me over to Daddy Dearest so he could interrogate me after the whole Rivkin fiasco. I know I don't have to tell you about all the fun I had with McGee getting smacked around and drugged in Somalia when we went to find her and rescue her. You heard all about that one on the long flight home. Nope, I'm done."

"Tony, I get it. I understand why you're mad; mad at me, mad at Ziva, mad at Vance. I'd be made as hell, too! We've all let you down. I always thought a little healthy competition was a good thing. You ragging on McGee for years helped turn him into a damn good field agent. He's always looked up to you, and he's always wanted to be like you. Still does. I thought you and Ziva were pretty equally matched, but I guess I let it go too far. You and Kate used to snipe at each other all the damn time. The two of you drove me crazy. Kate sometimes went too far, but she always had your six when it counted. I'm not sure Ziva does or ever intended to be one of us. I think her loyalties will always be with Mossad. I think any loyalty she had to NCIS died with Jenny. I want to trust her, Tony, but I never have, not really. Even though she killed Ari to save me, I've never been a hundred percent sure of her motive for doing it."

Gibbs took a drink of his tea. He had so much more to say, but he needed to buy some time to get his thoughts together. Tony was in a fragile mental state and he needed to tread carefully. Did he dare tell him that he was not just there as his boss and friend, but that he was also there as his self-appointed bodyguard? Oh boy!

Tony just stared at Gibbs, shocked by the sheer number of words spoken by the functional mute. His eyes darted from the rivulets of condensation dripping from the tall glass in Gibbs' hand onto the countertop to his Adam's Apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed. Lordy!

"You still didn't answer my question. By the way, I don't need or want a security detail. I'll just keep my Sig handy in case Ziva comes busting through the front door, and I'll make sure it's locked and loaded under my pillow at night. Like I said, I can take care of myself," Tony stated with a shrug.

He looked at the clock. It was approaching 1700; time to start dinner. Gibbs didn't look like he was planning on leaving anytime soon so Tony tendered an invitation.

"I was planning on pork chops, penne pasta with my famous authentic Italian marinara, steamed broccoli, and garlic bread for dinner. You're welcome to stay. I always make too much cooking just for me. I can even whip up a salad if you want," Tony said.

Gibbs grinned.

"Sounds great, but you can skip the salad."

Tony nodded and chuckled.

"Yeah, I thought so. Okay. I'm just going to grab a quick shower before I start cooking. Make yourself at home. There's beer in the fridge or feel free to pour yourself a drink. There's scotch behind the bar. I'll just be a few minutes."

After checking to make sure the front door was bolted, Gibbs put his empty glass in the sink and retrieved a bottle of beer out of the fridge. It was Happy Hour somewhere. He unscrewed the bottle cap then unclipped his cell phone from his belt to call McGee. He sat on Tony's couch and set his beer bottle on a coaster on the coffee table. His call went straight to voicemail.

Gibbs waited for the beep and growls, "Dammit McGee, what have I said about always being reachable? Call me the second you get this!"

After about 15 minutes, Tony appeared dressed in jeans and a white t-shirt with spiky towel-dried hair. A few hours under the July sun had deepened his tan. He was rubbing lotion onto his arms when he reached the living room.

Gibbs followed Tony back into the kitchen. Tony washed his hands then dried them on a kitchen towel, which he flung over his shoulder. Gibbs hoped that his appreciative leer went undetected.

"Stop it," Gibbs growled under his breath.

"Huh? You say something?" Tony asked.

"Nothin'," Gibbs muttered.

Tony rummaged through his fridge and pulled pots and pans from various cabinets as he set to work making dinner. He moved as gracefully around his kitchen as a practiced dancer.

While Tony cooked, Gibbs found plates and silverware and set the table. The tension was still palpable, but the chill seemed to be thawing. Tony handed him a chilled bottle of wine, which Gibbs uncorked and placed on the table. They made quite a team in the kitchen moving silently around each other.

Other than grilling steaks, Gibbs wasn't much of a cook. He offered to help, so Tony put him in charge of stirring the marinara sauce and checking on the garlic bread while he steamed fresh broccoli, kept an eye on the boiling pasta, and pan-fried two marinated butterfly pork chops with mounds of yellow onion, an abundance of garlic, and a splash of wine.

After several minutes, Gibbs cleared his throat.

"Look, Tony, I can't undo what Ziva or Pantangelo did to you. I know you were hurt and humiliated and for all of that I am sorry. I've heard all of the tapes, read all the transcripts, and your report. You and Ziva were good partners once. I don't know what happened to her."

Tony turned and frowned at Gibbs. He backed up against the sink with his arms crossed.

"Yes you do," Tony snapped. "You know damn well she still blames me for Rivkin. Her people didn't do their jobs, but somehow it's my fault. Then Jenny getting killed. That was all on me, even though I was following her orders, and I get sent afloat because of it. She still blames me for you making the call to leave her behind in Israel. Hell, it wouldn't surprise me if she blamed me for her killing Ari. Never mind that I risked my life, and McGee's, to track her down in Somalia. She may act like she's one of us, but you're right - she will always be loyal to Daddy Dearest and Mossad. She's had everyone else fooled, but not me. All the games and flirting and bullshit. I just can't believe she's been able to fool you and Vance all this time, or maybe you just didn't want to see it."

Tony turned away to pull serving dishes down from a cabinet. He placed the pork chops on a platter and surrounded them with the broccoli, then dumped the pasta in a big Corning dish.

"Now, if you don't mind this stuff is all ready," Tony requested giving a nod to the pan of sauce Gibbs had been tending.

Gibbs obliged and poured the sauce over the pasta and gave it a stir. He pulled the baking sheet from the oven and put the garlic bread in the linen-lined basket Tony handed him.

"You're right, Tony. I didn't want to see it.

They stood and stared at each other for a moment, both trying to decide if there was anything more to say on the subject of Ziva. Both men jumped when the doorbell rang breaking the awkward silence.

In the time it took for Tony to retrieve his Sig from the gun safe in his bedroom, Gibbs had already taken up a defensive position with his back against the wall next to the door with his gun at the ready and the safety off. He nodded and signaled for Tony to answer the door.

Tony very slowly crept up onto the small landing and looked through the door's peephole. He dropped his head back with a groan and holstered his gun.

"You can stand down. It's just McGee," Tony announced.

Tony unchained the door and turned the deadbolt. He opened the door and glared at his uninvited guest.

"Probie, what the hell are you doing here?"

McGee shouldered his way past Tony.

"Mind if I come in? Oh, hey Boss!" McGee said as Gibbs holstered his weapon and relaxed his stance.

Tony quickly checked the hallway in both directions to make sure McGee hadn't been followed.

"By all means, Probie, do come in," Tony greeted sarcastically, pushing the front door shut with his foot.

Gibbs shot an ominous look at Tony then replaced the chain and turned the deadbolt. Tony rolled his eyes. He really did not think this overabundance of caution was necessary since there were now three armed federal agent in his living room. Tony turned and headed back to the kitchen.

"I just got your voicemail, Boss. I was, um, on my way over here when you called," McGee stammered.

"What do you got for me, McGee?" Gibbs demanded.

"Well, I made sure that Abby, Ducky and Palmer got home safely. They all have guards with them. I haven't seen or heard anything from Ziva, which I guess is a good thing."

Gibbs pursed his lips and glared at McGee.

"Where's your detail, McGee?"

"Oh, Joe, he's uh, he's downstairs - in his car. We stopped on the way here so he could grab a burger. I told him to call me if he sees anything. I take it you've told Tony what's going on?" McGee countered.

"Yes, McGee. Tony knows what's going on."

"Yeah, Probie, I know," Tony added. He strode from the kitchen and handed McGee a beer. "We were just about to sit down to dinner. You want?"

McGee smiled. He loved Tony's cooking.

"Sure, if you don't mind. I don't want to impose," McGee said.

Tony grinned.

"Yes you sure as hell do! I swear you always know when I'm cooking Italian. Have a seat, I'll just grab another plate," Tony replied.

McGee selected some cool jazz to play on Tony's stereo while Tony and Gibbs finished up in the kitchen. With plates piled high, the three of them sat at the dining room table and dug in.

Midway through dinner, Tony refilled his wine glass and asked, "Okay McGee, so I've heard Gibbs take on the whole Ziva situation. You got anything you want to add?"

McGee finished chewing a bite, swallowed, and replied, "Well, I know she looked really pissed off when she left."

Gibbs watched the exchange between his two subordinates while he ate.

"Yeah, I got that much. Do you really think she'll come after me or any of us or do something stupid? I know she blames me for pretty much everything wrong in the world, but revenge? Really?" Tony asked.

McGee looked Tony in the eye.

"Yes, Tony, I do. I don't know what it is, but she's not the same. Something's changed. I don't know if she just trying to prove she's still a badass after being Saleem's prisoner, or if she really does hate you for killing Rivkin or whatever. I know she's always tried to show you up, but now it's different. You didn't see her earlier, Tony. This thing had to set her off, so I wouldn't put anything past her right now."

Tony swallowed hard. Maybe this was more serious than he thought. He looked from McGee to Gibbs and shrugged.

"Okay then, so what do we do about it, about it?"

Gibbs took a sip of wine. He was more of a beer drinker, but the wine Tony chose went well with the meal.

"That's a good question, DiNozzo. Part of me thinks we should all just lay low and hope this blows over and Ziva calms down and comes back. The other part thinks we need to come up with a plan to find out what the hell she might be up to before she gets a chance to do anything. Tony, I think if Ziva is going to go after one of us it will be you."  
Tony sat back in his chair with a sigh and tossed his linen napkin on the table.

"Well that's just great! Tell me, how do I manage to always attract the crazy chicks?" he asked. Gibbs and McGee both snorted.

* * *

The dinner dishes were in the dishwasher and the few leftovers were sealed and in the fridge. A couple of pans were set in the sink to soak. McGee was sent home with a full belly and strict orders to watch his six leaving Gibbs and Tony sitting on the couch in awkward silence.

"Gibbs I really appreciate the concern, but don't you have anywhere else you'd rather be? Your basement, maybe? Look, I got my Sig right here and I'll be sure to keep the door locked. I'm sure you've got better things to do on a Friday night than babysit me," Tony said after several moments. "Besides, how do you know I don't have a hot date?"  
Gibbs left eyebrow shot up and he smirked.

"Because if you did you wouldn't be sitting here. You'd be primping and getting all dressed to impress. Tell me I'm wrong," Gibb challenged.

Tony bowed his head and mumbled, "You're not wrong."

"You're still pissed at me, aren't you?" Gibbs asked.

Tony cleared his throat.

"More like aggravated. I think you're totally overreacting, but I know how you get. I'm used to you playing protector for Abby, not me. I can take care of myself. Besides, I'm not sure I still work for you, so you don't get to boss me around."

Gibbs glared at Tony, but there was a hint of concern in his eyes.

"I know you walked off the job today, and I know why. You had a damn good reason to walk out, and I sure as hell don't blame you. Let's just call it taking vacation time. I expect your ass to be at work Monday morning, bright and early. I'm just sorry I wasn't there to keep Ziva in check. McGee told me what she said to you. He's got your back, you know?"

Tony nodded.

"Yeah, I know. McGee's may be a pest, but he's a good guy."

Gibbs didn't move from his spot on the couch. He turned his head and looked at Tony, who peered at him through long dark eyelashes.

"Tony, I'm not going anywhere. In case you haven't figured it out yet, I'm your protection detail. You better get used to it," Gibbs replied with a smirk. "Now, I'm going to run down to my car and grab my go bag. You stay here and keep the door locked."

Tony stood, followed Gibbs, and grabbed his keys from the small table by the door. Instead of closing and locking the door he followed Gibbs out into the hallway.

"DiNozzo, what the hell do you think you're doing?" Gibbs demanded.

Tony turned a key in the lock and pulled his Sig from the waistband of his jeans. He flashed a tight grin at Gibbs.

"I'm going with you. If you're my protection detail, then I'm yours. You got a problem with that?" Tony asked, sounding as perturbed as he had all afternoon.

After a brief stare down, Tony said, "Or we can just stand here and Ziva can pick us both off. Gibbs, I doubt Ziva is staking out my parking lot so let's go get your kit instead of standing here like sitting ducks."

Gibbs growled.

"Fine, but you stay out of sight. You got me, Tony? I'm not kidding!"

Tony smiled.

"Yeah, I got you."

* * *

Tony felt like a prisoner in his own home. He couldn't sit out on his balcony with his morning coffee and the newspaper like he did on rare weekends off. He wasn't allowed to go for a swim in case Ziva had set up a sniper's nest on the rooftop of a nearby building. That left channel surfing and sitting down to pay his bills. Laundry provided the only other distraction.

The weekend passed without incident, but Gibbs refused to let his guard down. Rarely was his gut wrong, and it was sending him clear signals. He made himself right at home at Tony's place, taking up residence on his couch. He declared more than once that it was more comfortable than his.

"Geez Gibbs, you really should try sleeping in a bed. I hear they're pretty comfy," Tony teased while buttering toast Monday morning. They may have a personal drama unfolding, but Team Gibbs still had work to do. Tony made it clear he was fine with being a bit cautious, but he was adamant that he wasn't going to hide "from one crazy chick."

Tony placed a plate of scrambled eggs, bacon and toast in front of Gibbs, who was working on at least his third cup of coffee.

"Okay, so now what? We got through the weekend without so much as a peep out of Ziva. She didn't call, come over, and we didn't see her at the supermarket yesterday or staking out my dry cleaners on Saturday. Can we please relax now? Once we get to work we will be inside a secure federal building, so I think we'll be safe."

Gibbs replied with a rather perturbed look. That didn't stop his eyes from scanning Tony from the top of his perfectly coiffed head to the tops of his designer shoes. How Tony could dress like he was headed for a boardroom instead of chasing dirtbags was beyond Gibbs. That and a complete lack or care about fashion sense is why he preferred the men's line of business casual wear at Sears. He estimated that Tony's monthly dry cleaning bill was on par with his mortgage payment.

"Thank you, Tony. This looks really good," Gibbs said with a hint of a smile while salting and peppering his eggs.

Tony smirked back.

"You're welcome. Now, answer my question. Can we just get back to work, the three of us, and forget all of this Ziva nonsense?"

Tony took a drink of orange juice and waited for the expected answer.

"No, we cannot! Are you kidding me, Tony? Until we know where Ziva is and figure out what she might be planning, we cannot let our guard down. I'm not saying she's going to do something drastic, but until I know for sure what she's up to I'm not letting you out of my sight. Everyone's protection detail stays in place until I say otherwise. Got it?"

Tony nodded. This was a side of Gibbs that only a few people got to see, and Tony was one of them. From past experience he knew there was no reasoning with Gibbs when he was in protector mode. Gibbs would go to any lengths necessary to keep anyone and everyone he cared about safe. Tony figured it was because of the one time he wasn't there when it really counted, to protect his beloved wife and daughter.

They ate breakfast in relative silence. When they were finished, Tony rinsed off the dishes and piled them in the sink to be dealt with later. He went to grab his wallet, gun and keys while Gibbs made a series of phone calls.

Calls to Ducky, McGee, and Abby all came back with the same report: No Ziva sightings or calls from her. Ducky had insisted on Palmer staying at his house for the duration. It made sense. Ducky's grand house would be difficult for one or two agents to secure. With Palmer's detail added in, and the security system Ducky already had in place, there was little chance of an intruder gaining access to the house.

Gibbs drove at his usual breakneck speed and pulled to an abrupt stop in his customary parking spot. It only took a quick flash of their badges to get past the guards at the main gate. Gibbs made a mental note to ream Vance a new one for not tightening security under the circumstances.

There would be no hanging out on the Commons or lining up at the coffee cart. Gibbs didn't want Tony out in the open any more than absolutely necessary, so he made an executive decision to pull into a Dunkin' Donuts near the Navy Yard. He ordered a large black dark roast for himself and a large hazelnut medium roast for Tony. At a stern look from Tony, Gibbs politely asked the lady at the drive-thru window to make sure to add extra whipped cream and to drizzle it with caramel. He hadn't totally forgotten how Tony liked his coffee.

* * *

"Really Gibbs?" Tony asked as he found himself held back behind Gibbs' arm when he tried to step off of the elevator when it reached their floor. "You really think Ziva would be standing here waiting for us in the squad room? Oooh, maybe she's hiding out behind the copier!"

"Shut it, DiNozzo," he mumbled and lead Tony toward the bullpen.

Tony huffed in annoyance and headed for his desk. He dropped his bag in the corner, stowed his weapon, and powered up his computer.

"Good morning, Probie. Have an exciting, fun-filled weekend?" Tony asked while shooting an annoyed look at Gibbs.

McGee sat up straight as if he were about to give a speech or a report and replied, "Uh, not really. Kinda quiet. Got some writing done. The usual."

"What you're really saying is you wasted all weekend playing online video games," Tony accused with a grin. He would never tire of giving McGee grief for his lack of a social life.

"DiNozzo, leave him alone," Gibbs barked.

He was about to call Tony and McGee over to his desk when Leon Vance appeared in the bullpen.

"Glad to see you all got here. Any word from Ms. Scuito or the others?" Vance asked.

McGee took that as an indirect order to call Abby and Ducky downstairs to make sure they had all arrived safely. When McGee returned and announced that everyone was present and accounted for, Vance cleared his throat.

"Okay gentlemen, I've spoken with Director David about our current situation. He assures me there is nothing for us to worry about. I'm not so sure I agree. If he hears from Ziva he will let me know, but he doesn't expect her to call. He told me part of her Mossad training was to disappear without leaving a trace. She could be anywhere right now, and until we know for sure what her intentions are protection details remain in place."

"We need to tighten up security around here, Director. DiNozzo and I were able to get past the gate just by flashing our badges. Everyone working on the Navy Yard needs to be on the lookout for Ziva. I don't have to remind you how easy it is to forge credentials to get into secure facilities," Gibbs stated.

Vance nodded.

"That's a good point, Gibbs. I'll alert all security personnel and make sure they get the word out. At this time, Officer Ziva David is not allowed on the premises. If she steps one foot on this installation she will be apprehended. I will let you know when or if I hear anything from Director David, and I expect you to let me know of any new developments as well. Good day, gentlemen," Vance said.

As soon as Vance disappeared up the stairs and Tony and McGee returned to their desks, Gibbs' phone rang. He answered with his customary, "Yeah, Gibbs". He scratched out something on a notepad and hung up the phone.

"Okay. Grab your gear. The body of a Navy Lieutenant was just found on the Mall. McGee, gas the truck. Tony, call Ducky and tell him to meet us there and tell him to be careful. I want everyone to grow eyes on the back of their head. Okay, let's go. DiNozzo, you're with me."

Tony rolled his eyes and called Ducky as ordered to give him directions.

"Yeah and Ducky, leave your bodyguards at home. Oh, I'm supposed to tell you and Palmer to be extra careful out there. Gibbs is kind of freaking out," Tony said before ending the brief call.

Tony grinned at Gibbs and got a growl in return. He shouldered his bag and followed Gibbs to the elevator. On his six as always.

* * *

It was a gorgeous day. The granite pillars and arches of the World War II Memorial gleamed in the bright sunlight. Flags fluttered in the light breeze. The crystal clear water dancing from the fountains in the Rainbow Pool at the center of the Memorial created a sense of serenity. Tourists strolled the heavily tree-lined grounds in droves.

"What can you tell me, McGee?" Gibbs asked as he surveyed the taped off crime scene. A crowd began to gather, but Metro PD had sent enough units to keep them at bay and managed to cover the Lieutenant's body with a yellow tarp to ward off prying eyes.

McGee used his fingerprint scanner to match the Lieutenant's identity against the identification found on her body. The contents of a small leather purse lay scattered around the body.

"Um, her name is Kathryn Martell. She's uh, 26. Single, no kids. Born and raised in Pensacola, Florida. Says here her parents still live there. According to her Navy records she's a Security Analyst at the Pentagon," McGee reported.

"You got a time of death for me Duck?" Gibbs asked.

Ducky looked up from the body he was examining and fixed Gibbs with his best scowl.

"A definite time, no. But I can tell you this poor girl has been here for several hours. My preliminary cause of death, however, is blunt force trauma to the head. Fractured skull for certain. I will leave it to Abby to determine the instrument of death. From the lack of pooled blood from such a gaping head wound, I can tell you she was killed elsewhere and dumped here," Ducky said.

"You sure?" Gibbs asked.

"Of course I am sure, Jethro! A wound such as hers would have bled profusely, as all head wounds do. If you want my best guess at when she likely died, all I can say from the current state of the body, possibly 24 hours, no longer than 36. I will know more, of course, when I get her home for a proper examination. Mr. Palmer, be a good lad will you and fetch the gurney."

"You got it, Doctor Mallard," Palmer said.

Always eager to please, he dropped a body bag next to Ducky and jogged back to the ME van. He didn't see the muzzle flash but he heard the report. He turned back in time to see McGee fall to the ground in a heap.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry for the cliffhanger, but it seemed like a good place to stop. Another big thank you for the reviews, faves, and follows! Some of you are giving me some really good ideas. If I haven’t replied to each review, my apologies! I truly do appreciate each and every one. 
> 
> Warning: No beta, so all silly mistakes are mine. I try to catch them all, but every now and again a typo gets past me. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own any recognizable people or places, and no copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

“Everyone down!” Gibbs yelled as he instinctively covered Ducky’s body with his to shield him as shots continued in rapid succession.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw the crowd scatter to seek shelter beneath parked cars, behind trees, or anywhere they could find. He also saw a few victims fall to the ground. It was a scene of instant and utter chaos.

Gunshots continued to ring out, but Gibbs couldn’t pinpoint from which direction they were coming. The granite pillars created report echoes, which were muffled by the cover of trees surrounding the entire complex. If he closed his eyes, Gibbs was sure he’d be taken back to the fire fights he was in during Desert Storm. Those rounds seemed to come from every direction.

Then, as quickly as it began, the shooting stopped. The sound of gunfire was replaced by cries of pain and cries for help.

“DiNozzo? Tony?,” Gibbs shouted in a rather desperate tone.

“Over here Boss!” Tony called out in response. At the first shots, he had dragged Palmer to safety between the huge wheels and tires of the MCRT truck and ME van. “I’m with Palmer. We’re okay. You and Ducky?”

“We’re fine, but McGee’s down. I don’t know how bad,” Gibbs replied.

Without taking even a brief moment to assess the situation, Palmer grabbed the fully stocked medical bag Ducky kept in the ME van and ran the short distance to the grassy area where Lt. Martell and McGee were.

“Palmer, are you crazy? Stay down!” Tony yelled before taking off after him at a crouched run.

He caught a glimpse of someone running from the cover of the trees near the Atlantic arch at the north end of the Memorial. Nothing about the person stood out, but they were moving fast while Tony’s attention was on his fallen friend and partner. He did notice that the person appeared to be carrying something - possibly a rifle.

Tony dropped down next to McGee and took ahold of his hand. He patted the back of it gently. He talked while his eyes scanned the scene. They were out in the open and normally Tony would seek cover, but McGee didn’t look like he was in any condition to be moved.

The screeching of tires followed by shouted orders indicated the arrival of a large contingent of Metro police. Fire, ambulance, and other first responders were on the scene in a matter of minutes.

“McGee, talk to me,” Tony begged as Palmer set to work trying to assess where McGee had been hit and get a set of vitals. Palmer tore McGee’s shirt open to reveal a pristine Kevlar vest. McGee was breathing, but it was labored.

“Hang in there, McGee. You’re gonna be okay. We got you,” Tony said softly.

Metro PD officers spread out to direct EMTs to other victims and to begin canvassing the crowd. No one reported seeing the shooter, but several gave identical reports about hearing shots and pointed to where they came from. They were in agreement that they came from the trees near the Atlantic arch.

Time stood still.

After what felt like hours, a Metro PD Sergeant on scene ran up to Gibbs and crouched down next to him.

“We found some casings and an empty clip by those trees over there. You want us to bag ‘em?” the young officer asked. “I’ve got more units coming in so we can widen the search. We’re at your service, sir. Just tell me how we can help.”

“Just mark the evidence for now and keep everyone away. We’re gonna have to call the Feebs in on this. Try and get witness statements. We’ll let them handle the evidence. How many casualties?” Gibbs asked, fearing the answer.

The Sergeant frowned.

“Looks like at least a dozen, could be a lot more though. Haven’t heard yet if there have been fatalities. We’re talking to everyone we can find, sir, but we’re just getting started.”

Gibbs nodded.

“Thank you Sergeant,” he muttered.

* * *

“Okay, this is now two crime scenes,” Gibbs announced once he reached Tony.

“Tony, did you see anything?” he asked.

Tony ran a shaky hand through his hair.

“Um, yeah I think so,” Tony stammered. He struggled to recall what he may have seen while worrying about McGee.

“I, uh, saw someone run from those trees right there, but I didn’t get a good look at them. They came out of the trees then took off running up that path toward Independence Avenue. I think they headed north up the street, but I’m not really sure. Dark jeans, I think, and a gray hoodie. Couldn’t say if they were male or female, but Boss, Gibbs, I’m pretty sure they were carrying a rifle.”

Gibbs patted Tony on the back. He knew Tony was more concerned about McGee’s condition than he was about being a federal investigator. No matter what; family came first.

“Okay, that’s a start. Good job. Tony, you stay here with McGee and Palmer. I’m gonna get Ducky out of here and call Fornell. I want him running this show.” He looked from Tony to Palmer. “You two stay down and be careful.”

He whistled to get the attention of two Metro officers, who immediately trotted over to him.

“Head up Independence. See if anyone saw someone running north; saw something unusual. Maybe they saw someone get into a car and speed away. Try and get a description if you can. Anything you can get will be helpful. Let me know what you find out. FBI will be coming in and they’ll debrief you.”

Gibbs unclipped his cell phone and called Vance to report in. His next call was to Fornell at the Hoover Building. Another federal officer getting shot put this squarely in FBI jurisdiction, not that Gibbs’ team, or what was left of it, would be allowed to investigate the shooting of one of their own anyway. They may scrap over petty issues, but Gibbs trusted Fornell and wanted him to be in charge of the investigation into the shooting of one of his team. Fornell informed Gibbs that he was already on his way.

* * *

“Oh shit,” McGee groaned.

“McGee! You okay, man?” Tony asked, his voice at least an octave higher than normal.

McGee blinked repeatedly and attempted a nod, his face contorted in pain.

Tony was relieved to see that McGee was coming around, but the growing pool of blood on the grass where he lay told a story; the bullet that hit him missed his Kevlar vest. McGee’s light blue button down was quickly turning dark red.

Palmer placed a thick pressure bandage on McGee’s right side and placed Tony’s hand over it.

“Tony, hold his right here and keep a lot of pressure on it. We gotta stop the bleeding. We need an ambulance right now. He’s losing too much blood.”

“Hold still, McGee. Relax, man,” Tony encouraged.

“Tim, were you hit anywhere else?” Palmer asked. His tone was warm but clinical.

McGee hissed.

“Don’t think so. Just hit once, I think,” McGee replied through clenched teeth.

“Okay, hang on. We just gotta roll you a little bit to see if there’s an exit wound. Tony, let’s roll him - _gently_ ,” Palmer instructed calmly, as if he were a combat medic with years of field experience.

Palmer completed his field assessment and found that there was no exit wound. There was no bullet to be found on McGee or on the ground. After doing its damage, the bullet remained lodged somewhere inside McGee.

All hell might have been breaking loose around them, but Jimmy Palmer was cool and collected as he focused all of his attention on his patient. A siren-wailing ambulance showed up a few minutes later and skidded to a stop on the concrete path a few yards away.

“Damn, Palmer, you are one cool customer,” Tony muttered appreciatively.

Gibbs directed the ambulance as is backed up onto the grass a few feet from where McGee lay while a Metro PD cop helped Ducky load the body bag and gurney holding Lieutenant Martell’s body into the ME van. Satisfied that all was being done for McGee, a shaken Ducky climbed in behind the wheel to take the Lieutenant back to NCIS.

“Jethro, please keep me apprised of Timothy’s condition, and be a good lad and make sure that Mr. Palmer and Anthony get back home safely.”

Gibbs nodded and sighed.

“You have my word, Duck. Now get out of here. Go straight back to NCIS. I’ll send DiNozzo to the hospital with McGee and I’ll bring Palmer back with me. You stay put until I get there. I’ll call Vance and make sure security is there to meet you.”

Pained groans and cries for help continued to fill the air. Soon more ambulances arrived with sirens blaring to render aid to other apparent victims.

Gibbs spun around to see a dozen or so people being tended to by friends, strangers, and a host of paramedics. Families huddled together as parents comforted their terrified children. He scowled at the few gawkers who stood behind the yellow crime scene tape taking pictures of the scene. 

* * *

By evening, Gibbs, Tony and Vance were in the safe confines of the bullpen trying to make sense of the crazy day. Tony had ridden to the hospital in the ambulance with McGee, who reported that he didn’t see anything out of the ordinary prior to the shooting.

Abby met Tony at the hospital and took over the vigil. They huddled together in the surgical ward waiting room hoping and praying for good news. Once McGee was out of surgery and out of immediate danger, Tony returned to NCIS to put what he could remember into some semblance of a report. Abby assured him that she wouldn’t leave her “Timmy’s” side and would keep him and Gibbs apprised of his condition.

“You don’t think …” Vance began to ask before Gibbs cut him off.

“That it was Ziva? I doubt it,” Gibbs said with a shrug.

“Who then?” Vance asked before worrying the toothpick in the corner of his mouth.

“Well I don’t know, Leon. I guess we’ll have to investigate that,” Gibbs snapped.

Unable to stifle a snort, Tony covered the mouthpiece of his desk phone.

“Something you care to add, Agent DiNozzo?” Vance asked. His left eyebrow was raised to a dangerous level that meant now was not a good time to bullshit him.

Tony replied in a clipped tone, “No. No Sir.”

Vance looked from Gibbs to Tony and back again.

“As for investigating, _your_ job is to find out who killed Lieutenant Martell. That’s it. The FBI will handle the investigation into the shooting of McGee and others. You stay the hell out of it. By the way, any word yet on Agent McGee? And what the hell happened to his protection detail?”

Gibbs sighed.

“The details are for off hours, Leon, you know that. We can’t have extra people stomping all over crime scenes when we’re trying to work. We’re going to be as careful as we can be, but we still have work to do and we can’t do it with a bunch of extra people in our way.”

Tony ended the call he was on and announced, “Uh, that was Abby. She’s still with McGee at the hospital. He’s awake and the doctors say he’s stable. He’ll live. According to Abby, the bullet hit one of his ribs, bounced off and nicked his liver and large intestine, then lodged itself against his sacrum, whatever that is. It missed his spinal cord, thank God. She says they removed his spleen to help stop the bleeding. Gave him four units and, since they had him open, they went ahead and took his appendix. That was nice of them, huh? They recovered the bullet and turned it over to the Feebs.”

Tony leaned back in his chair and stretched. He stifled a yawn as he sat up again.

“They’re gonna hang onto him for a few days, just to be on the safe side. Abby says they have McGee sedated and on, and I quote, “a boatload” of antibiotics,” he reported. “Joe, sorry I mean Agent Adams, is guarding McGee’s room. No one’s gonna get by him _or_ Abby. I’m gonna head over there in a little bit. Gotta check on the Probie myself and make sure he’s okay.”

Vance yanked the toothpick out of his mouth and threw it into the nearest trash can.

“And the others? How many victims are we talking about?” He picked up the remote off of Gibbs’ desk and tuned the plasma to ZNN. The “breaking news” chyron tried to keep up with the unfolding events.

“Last count, fourteen confirmed casualties. They haven’t reported any fatalities yet. Here’s hoping the shooter was a lousy shot and not trying to kill anyone. Don’t know why someone would open fire on a crowd like that if they weren’t. Anyway, some victims, including McGee, were rushed into surgery. I don’t know the status of the others, just that a few were critical when I left. It was kind of nuts over there. Obviously, no one would tell _me_ anything. After all they were kind of busy. Most of the people I saw being treated in the ER didn’t appear to have life-threatening injuries, but I’m not a doctor, so what do I know, right? With any luck they’ll be treated and released,” Tony replied. “One nurse I talked to did say they could use blood donors, if anyone is interested.”

Gibbs cracked a crooked half grin. It always fascinated him how Tony could ramble on and insert trivial tidbits in with his always thorough sit reps. Nervous chatter from him often wielded helpful clues and insight.

Vance nodded.

“Any word yet from Fornell? I want this son-of-a-bitch caught, Gibbs! And until they are, I strongly suggest you all stick together. David is still out there somewhere, and I’m not a hundred percent convinced she wasn’t involved in McGee’s shooting. You could all still be in danger. With Ziva out of the picture you’re already one man down. Now with McGee out, that makes two. I’m gonna need to call in some other agents to help you with the Martell case. Any thoughts on who you want me to send over to you?”

Gibbs frowned. He was sure he and Tony could handle the investigation. They had been a hell of a two-man team once and they could do it again. But, with the added worry about Ziva it wouldn’t hurt to have help.

“I’ll deal with Fornell. How about giving us Woods and Malloy,” Gibbs replied. “They’ve helped us out before. Two good men.”

“Yes they are,” Vance added. “Okay. I’ll go and let them know that until further notice, or at least until McGee is back on his feet, they are on your team and they are to report to you. I’m going to go call the FBI Director and see if I can get us some answers. Who knows, we may need their help with this whole Ziva situation. Let me know if you hear anything, and when you see him, give McGee my best.”

Gibbs and Tony watched as Vance climbed the stairs two at a time.

“You ready to get out of here?” Gibbs asked.

Tony nodded.

“Yeah. Been a bitch of a day. You’re coming with me to the hospital, aren’t you?”

“Of course I am. Figure we can grab a bite to eat on the way. Breakfast was a long time ago,” Gibbs replied.

“Not really hungry. I just want to check on McGee then go home and sleep for a week.”

* * *

Tony relented and nibbled an Arby’s roast beef sandwich and half an order of fries on the way to the hospital. He sipped on an ice cold Pepsi while Gibbs scanned the road for any sign of trouble as he drove. A bag with Gibbs’ sandwich and fries sat on the seat between them.

“You worry too much, you know that?” Tony muttered as trees passed by the passenger window in a slower than usual blur.

Gibbs grunted in reply.

“You don’t think it was Ziva, do you,” Tony asked. “C’mon Gibbs, she would never take the risk and be that careless. Firing on a crowd of people in broad daylight? She’d use a silencer and get the job done with a single shot, you know that. And she sure as hell wouldn’t leave any witnesses or evidence laying around. Thing with Z is, she’s a ninja. You never see her coming or going.”

“I agree, but that doesn’t mean she’s not somehow involved,” Gibb replied.

Gibbs’ brows knit together in confusion. Just yesterday Tony was ranting and raving about Ziva betraying him, yet now he was seemingly defending her. He no longer knew what to think.

“And may I say you’ve sure changed your tune about Ziva since yesterday. Care to explain?” Gibbs asked in that tone that made it sound like an order.

“Look Gibbs, she may be nuts and really pissed off right now, but this was awfully sloppy for a Mossad-trained assassin. I mean, leaving my ass hanging on an op is one thing, but shooting McGee at a crime scene? Why? How would she even know we were there? It doesn’t make any sense,” Tony stated.

He really didn’t want to think that Ziva would turn to deadly revenge, but his personal and professional thoughts were at war with each other. If anything, Ziva was unpredictable. Theirs had always been a complicated relationship. Sometimes they were friends, sometimes strictly partners. There had been mutual harmless flirting followed by dismissive insults. Tony’s feelings for Ziva had never been anything but platonic, but he wondered if her feelings hadn’t been more. It was a subject best left alone.

Gibbs pulled the car into a parking space outside of the hospital and jumped out. Tony followed after grabbing the Arby’s bag with Gibbs’ dinner in it. 

As expected, Travis Woods and Eric Malloy were standing by in the parking lot awaiting their arrival. Gibbs was relieved to have investigative support as well as additional security for Tony.

“Hey Trav, Eric!” Tony greeted as he approached to shake their hands. “Been a long time. Last time I saw you was on the basketball court when we wiped the floor with the Feebs.”

Malloy chortled at the memory.

“Yeah, that was fun,” Malloy replied with a hearty laugh and a toothy smile.

“If you don’t mind, instead of standing out here let’s move this inside,” Woods suggested with an air of authority. Gibbs grinned.

They were Gibbs and Tony dopplegangers, at least personality wise. Woods was several years older than Malloy. He was a former Army Ranger, married with three kids, stern and all business, while Malloy was single, chatty, and outgoing. Tony and Malloy exchanged shrugs but dutifully followed Woods and Gibbs into the hospital’s main entrance.

Tony hated everything about hospitals. From the stark lighting to the antiseptic smell, everything carried negative association. Walking in as a visitor was something relatively new. Tony was used to being wheeled in as a patient after one work-related misadventure or another. He left Gibbs’ side and approached the information desk to get McGee’s room number. 

Gibbs sighed. He was tired. He felt the same way about hospitals, but he was used to being there occupying waiting rooms and drinking all the horrible coffee he could find while doctors worked to patch his second in command up. Why Tony always felt the need to throw himself into the direct line of danger or take one for the team was a mystery. Sure he was young, brave and brash, but he was still just mortal, flesh and bone. Gibbs flashed back to the last time in the not too distant past; the night everything went to hell in the ill-fated raid in Anacostia.

He would probably always be haunted by the sight of Tony when he reached him, battered, bruised and bleeding profusely. More shocking was Ziva’s complete lack of remorse or even awareness of what she had done. Gibbs knew full well that Ziva was Mossad trained and would never be one hundred percent tamed, but he didn’t think she would sink to sacrificing a teammate. For all of her past declarations of friendship as she assimilated to working with a team, it was a complete and unforgivable betrayal of trust.

After months healing and getting her bearings back after Somalia, Ziva had returned to NCIS much changed. She was distant, almost cold at times, and reserved. Gibbs took it as self-preservation not wanting to show any signs of weakness by detailing what happened to her during the months she was back under Mossad control. He knew she likely still harbored ill will toward Tony over Mikel Rivkin’s death and his decision to leave her behind in Israel. And it had to be humiliating for her to have Tony of all people, ride in and rescue her from Saleem’s evil clutches. So why would she target McGee? It didn’t make any sense.

Tony rejoined Gibbs, Woods and Malloy just as Fornell walked through the door.

“Oh great,” Tony groaned. “Just what I needed right now. Hey Tobias.”

“DiNutso,” Fornell replied with a tight grin. “I hear you may have seen our shooter. Care to share?”

“Like I told Gibbs earlier, I didn’t get a good look. Whoever it was took off running and I was kind of focusing on my partner, who, I might add, was laying there bleeding all over the place. All I can say is, medium height. Blue jeans and a gray hoodie. Couldn’t see their face so I can’t tell you if they were male or female. Running toward Independence carrying something that looked a lot like a rifle to me,” Tony reported.

“Let’s get some coffee and sit so I can fill you in on what I know, which isn’t much at this point. One thing I do know, we still have a shooter on the loose in DC,” Fornell suggested.

The five men filed into an elevator and headed for the hospital cafeteria. At least there they had a chance of finding decent coffee. Much to everyone’s surprise, the cafeteria offered a variety of Green Mountain fresh brewed coffee to choose from.

Seated around a high corner table away from any windows, the group of agents compared notes.

“We got statements from several bystanders,” Fornell offered. “They all report that a person they saw running from the scene was slim, not very tall. They had dark hair pulled away from their face but they didn’t get a real good look either. One guy said he thought it was strange that they were wearing a hoodie since it’s summer. Someone said they got into a car and took off. Couldn’t see the plates. Said it was a goldish or tan-colored late model sedan. Not sure if the person they saw was a passenger or the driver. We have one guy says he may know something more useful. Jethro, thought you might want to be there when I question him. Just as a courtesy, as an observer only. This _is_ an FBI case.”

Gibbs glared for effect, by nodded.

“You just tell me when and where, Tobias, and I’ll be there,” Gibbs stated.

“I wanna be there too!” Tony interjected. “Whoever this sumbitch is, they shot my partner.”

“Sure, DiNutso. The more the merrier. Gibbs, I’ll call you. Got this witness on ice. He’s not going anywhere. We’re holding him as a possible material witness. How about tomorrow morning?”

The five men finished their coffees.

“Fine. We’ll be there.”

Fornell got up to leave.

“Okay, I’m heading back over to the Hoover Building. I got a team of our finest forensic experts on the case. We’ve got a lot of evidence to go through. I let you know if we find anything. You guys go see McGee. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

* * *

Tony and Gibbs stepped off the elevator and headed down the hall to McGee’s room with Woods and Malloy in tow. Halfway there, alarms blared. Fire doors along the corridor closed automatically. Bright emergency lights flashed, and staff scrambled to follow whatever emergency procedures they had to shelter in place. A monochromatic blur ran into a nearby stairwell. Woods and Malloy gave chase.

Tony and Gibbs drew their weapons and identified themselves as the ran the last several yards to McGee’s room.

“NICS!” Tony yelled. Gibbs followed up with, “Federal agents! Everyone down!”

Abby was nearly hysterical when they arrived. Within seconds, Joe Adams, McGee’s security detail, appeared in the room followed by a team of hospital security personnel

Gibbs turned and glared at Joe.

“Where the hell have you been? You’re McGee’s detail. This room is supposed to be guarded 24/7,” Gibbs barked.

Joe stammered to come up with a reply. Abby chimed in to provide cover.

“It’s not his fault, Gibbs. I told him to go get some coffee and stretch his legs. He’s been sitting out there for hours.”

Tony hostered his gun.

“But you are not an armed federal agent tasked with protecting McGee, are you Abby?” Tony scolded.

Abby began to cry. Whatever had transpired, a heavily sedated McGee slept through it all.

Gibbs grabbed Abby by the arm and pushed her down into a chair.

“You want to tell me what the hell happened?” he asked, “And will someone shut off those goddamn alarms?”

Abby sniffled and dabbed at her eyes with a tissue.

“Abby, what or who did you see?” Tony asked.

“Like I said, I sent Joe away for a little break. It was all fine, then I had to pee so I left. I just went down the hall. Seriously, I was only gone for a few minutes. I came back and there was someone in the room. They were standing by the bed looking down on Timmy. I got scared and screamed and they ran out, and then you guys showed up.”

Gibbs and Tony exchanged knowing looks. Woods and Malloy showed up, out of breath, to report that they lost the figure they had been chasing.

“I headed up the stairs, and Woods headed down. Whoever it was could have gotten out of that stairwell on any floor,” Malloy reported. “Checked the parking lot too, nothing. Sorry Gibbs, DiNozzo, we tried.”

Tony patted Malloy on the back.

“That’s okay. We’ll find them - somehow.”

“Okay, I want one of you to stay here tonight and take over guard duty. Joe, go home and get some rest. I want you back here at 0500, you got me? And you _will_ stay right outside this door until _I_ say you can leave.”

“Yes sir, sorry sir. Won’t happen again,” Joe replied tiredly.

Gibbs turned his attention back to Abby.

“Anything else you can tell us, Abs? Did they say anything or do anything? You get any kind of description?”

Abby shook her head.

“No. I’m sorry, Gibbs. Everything happened so fast. They were just standing there, right where Tony is now, looking down at McGee. Then they ran out like I said. I couldn’t see them very well; I couldn’t see their face at all. They had a hoodie on pulled kinda tight and kept their head down, and they didn’t look at me. Who could it be? What did they want with Timmy?”

Abby’s eyes went wide.

“Oh my God, you don’t think it was the shooter coming back to finish the job do you?”

Tony pulled a now sobbing Abby into a hug.

“Calm down, Abs. We don’t know anything yet. McGee is fine and we’ll catch them, don’t worry.”

McGee’s eyes fluttered open and he groaned.

“Whas goin on?” he mumbled as he attempted to sit up.

“McGoo! You’re alive!” Tony declared with a chuckle.

Abby punched Tony in the arm and threw herself at a helpless, reclined McGee.

“Oh Timmy! Are you okay? How do you feel? Do you need anything? Did you see who was here? Oh my gosh, I was so scared!”

It took both Gibbs and Tony to pry her off of McGee so he could breathe again. In her exuberance, Abby knocked a lead off of McGee’s telemetry setting off an alarm out at the ICU desk. A nurse ran in and shot the group a disapproving look as she reattached the lead and reset the system.

The nurse reminded them of visiting hours. Tony, Gibbs, Woods, and Malloy said their good-byes, leaving McGee in Abby’s capable hands.

“I’ll … _we’ll_ … stop by and check on you in the AM, okay? Get some rest, McGee. You look like hell. Man, you scared the shit out of me. Glad you’re okay. Oh, by the way, the Toothpick sends his regards,” Tony said.

McGee chuckled and waved to his friends as they left.

On the way out, Gibbs stopped at the nurse’s station and advised them that they shouldn’t even bother trying to get Abby to leave.

* * *

Gibbs drove past the Memorial on the way back to Tony’s place. The blue and red flashing lights cast an eerie glow on all of the granite arches and pillars. There were still a lot of emergency vehicles on scene. Those that had left had been replaced by TV satellite trucks and official FBI tactical vehicles. All of the major local and national news outlets had set up camp.

Tony and Gibbs didn’t speak on the elevator ride up to Tony’s floor. Once they reached the door, Gibbs was back in protector mode. He grabbed Tony’s keys with one hand and drew his Sig with the other.

Tony threw his head back and groaned.

“Gibbs, I locked the damn door. I swear,” he protested.

Gibbs fumbled with the key but managed to put it in the lock. He turned the key and opened the door slowly. He stepped inside and reached to his right for the light switch on the wall.

“Gibbs, you aren’t seriously going to clear my whole apartment, are you? This is ridiculous. There is no one here.”

“Shut it, DiNozzo. You wait here.”

Tony rolled his eyes while Gibbs methodically cleared his apartment. He ignored Gibbs’ instructions and turned on a few lamps as he headed to the kitchen. He pulled two bottles of beer from the fridge and popped the tops. Tony put his head back and took a long pull. The cold liquid was soothing to his throat and his nerves. Gibbs’ beer sat sweating on the kitchen island waiting for him.

Gibbs cocked his head and mock glared at Tony when he joined him in the kitchen.

“I thought I told you to wait by the door,” Gibbs stated before taking a drink of his beer.

Tony grinned.

“And I told you there was no one here. See I _was_ right, you _do_ worry too much,” Tony replied around a yawn.

After a beer and a couple of shots of scotch, they changed into t-shirts and boxers and got ready for bed, but between the shooting, worrying about McGee, and the excitement at the hospital they were both too amped up to sleep. Abby called just before 2300 to report that McGee was sleeping soundly and was doing well. She had overloaded on Caf-Pow! and kept Tony on the phone for nearly an hour. He “uh huh’d” and “yepped” every few minutes to be polite as she rambled on fueled by caffeine and fear.

Gibbs wanted to call Ducky but decided to wait until morning. There was no reason to alarm him unnecessarily. Ducky was a believer that no news was good news. While Tony tried to pay attention to Abby, he mindlessly surfed through the hundreds of channels offered bt Tony’s satellite service. Nothing grabbed his attention, so he switched the TV off and tossed the remote onto the coffee table.

Around daybreak, both men dressed casually and headed for FBI headquarters after stopping at Gibbs’ favorite diner for breakfast. Neither of them was particularly hungry but each managed to down a couple of pancakes and a few strips of bacon. Tony topped his breakfast off with a small glass of orange juice while Gibbs guzzled down cup after cup of coffee.

Armed with visitor passes they cleared security after turning over their guns before going through the metal detectors. Gibbs introduced himself and Tony to the head of security, who reported that he had been expecting them. Large to-go coffees in hand, they were escorted to the interrogation room where Fornell was waiting for them. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Okay, this chapter contains a lot of interrogation dialogue, which is not my strong suit. We may have a possible suspect in the mass shooting, but did he do it? Stay tuned … Meanwhile, Team Gibbs Lite looks to be closing in on Lt. Martell’s killer - maybe. 
> 
> No beta, so all silly mistakes are mine. 
> 
> Disclaimer: As per usual, I do not own any recognizable characters or places. I am making no money from this, and no copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

Jesse Hartnell had just turned 18 and was about to start his senior year of high school. He wasn’t involved in anything and he had nothing to hide, so he turned down his parents’ offer of hiring him an attorney. His mind was spinning with the events of the last 24 hours. One minute he was just enjoying a nice stroll around the National Mall with his new would-be girlfriend, trying to impress her by playing tour guide. She was new in town, so he thought he would take her to all the popular tourist spots. Then, suddenly, all hell broke loose as bullets started flying and people all around them hit the deck. Sherry took off running as soon as ‘all clear’ was declared, leaving Jesse standing there surrounded by screaming people, crying kids, and a bunch of cops.

The paper thin cot that passed for a bed in his federal holding cell was lumpy and uncomfortable. Jesse guessed he only slept for maybe an hour or two. Mostly he just dozed since his brain refused to shut down. He had a feeling today was going to be another really long day. God, he needed a cigarette and a Mt. Dew!

The small nondescript room he found himself in looked much like the ones depicted on cop shows and in the movies. In the middle of the room was a scuffed rectangular table, with two uncomfortable chairs on each long side. Cameras were affixed at each corner of the room near the ceiling. Jesse slouched in his chair and waited for the red lights to come on.

On the wall across from where he sat was the almost cliché one-way glass. Who was on the other side watching him he didn’t know nor did he care. He suspected that his father was probably there and, if he was, Jesse was glad he couldn’t see the look of disappointment that had to be on his dad’s face. Jesse thought back to the time his junior year when his parents were called to the principal’s office because he had gotten into a fist fight. If they were pissed about the 3-day suspension he got, he could only imagine how mad they were about him being held as part of an FBI investigation into a mass shooting. There was a greater chance that neither of his parents knew or cared where he was, and that was fine with him. Jesse was nervous, scared and tired, and he just wanted to get this “interview” over with and go home.

Outside the interrogation room door, Fornell turned and faced his “guests” to set the ground rules for Gibbs and Tony. None of the three looked like they had gotten much sleep and were running only on coffee and left over adrenaline.

“Now look, I only agreed to let you two sit in because of your boy McGee. Glad to hear he’s gonna be okay, by the way. There’s only one rule in there, and that is I do all of the talking. You got me, Jethro? Either of you steps over the line, and I’ll kick both of your asses out and charge you with obstruction. This is an FBI investigation. Are we clear?” Fornell demanded.

“Crystal. Now can we get on with this, Tobias? In case you’ve forgotten, we have our own case to work on,” Gibbs answered with an impatient growl.

* * *

Jesse jumped when the heavy door flew open and three intimidating agents walked in. One agent, an older man with gray hair and steely eyes, took a seat on the opposite side of the table while a second, younger agent took the seat to his left. Jesse gave the younger agent next to him a curt nod, and got a tight, tired grin in return. The third agent, who appeared to be in charge, looked at him with intent then dropped a thick file folder on the table before taking the empty seat directly opposite him next to the grumpy looking older agent.

The lead agent leaned over the table in a menacing posture.

“Mr. Hartnell, I am FBI Supervisory Special Agent in Charge Tobias Fornell. These two are Special Agents Gibbs and DiNozzo from NCIS.”

Fornell fixed a glare on first Gibbs then Tony.

“They are here only to observe.”

Next to him Gibbs snorted.

“Mr. Hartnell, or may I call you Jesse?” Fornell asked.

“Jesse is fine. Whatever. Doesn’t matter to me,” Jesse replied.

“You understand why you’re here?

“Yeah, I mean, yes sir. You want to talk about my friend Kevin,” Jesse said timidly.

Fornell cracked his knuckles and cleared his throat.

“Okay then, let’s begin. We will be recording this interview, both audio and video. You are not under arrest and you are free to leave at any time. If you don’t understand a question, let me know and I will repeat it for you. If you need a break, let me know. If you need something to eat or drink, we can get it for you. Okay? We’re not the bad guys here. We just want to know what you know. Now, I understand you may have information that could help us find out who is responsible for yesterday’s shooting at the World War Two Memorial. You told one of my agents on the scene yesterday that you think your friend, Kevin, might be involved. Is that correct?”

Jesse looked up and noticed the red lights on all four cameras. Shit was about to get real! He sat up straight in his chair and spoke slowly and deliberately.

“Yes, sir. I’m not sure I can be very much help, but what do you want to know?” Jesse replied.

Fornell leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Just tell us what you know, and why you think this Kevin could be involved,” Fornell prompted.

To his left, Tony produced a bottle of water and handed it to Jesse.

“Here. Relax and breathe. Take your time and just answer as best you can,” Tony instructed. “Anything you tell us might help.”

Jesse nodded and muttered his thanks. He twisted the cap off of the bottle and took a long drink.

“Okay, my friend’s name is Kevin. Kevin McClelland. He’s 17; he’ll be 18 in October, I think. We’re both gonna be seniors this year at Dunbar High. He’s a nice guy but kind of messed up; he gets a little squirrely sometimes. He’s been talking shit - oh I’m sorry, saying stuff like this for a couple of years. I thought he was just kidding, you know? Thought it was just talk like he was trying to sound tough or something. I never thought he could actually do something like this. I’m still not sure he did.”

Jesse took another drink of water.

“You’re doing great, Jesse,” Tony encouraged.

“I mean, I’ve known him since we were little kids. We’ve been friends since grade school. Cub Scouts and all of that. Anyway, his parents split up a few years ago. My parents said it was a messy divorce and there was a nasty custody fight. Kev stayed at my house a lot during the divorce. I guess his parents fought a lot; yelling and screaming at each other. My mom said Kev really needed a friend, and there I was. Kev doesn’t really like his parents. I don’t think they were ever a real close family, you know. His mom was always kind of cold and really overbearing. She hovered over him all the time, and had to know everything he was doing. Where he was going, and who he was with. His dad travelled a lot for work. He’s a big shot at some communications company. Kev told me once he does some work for the government. I don’t know the name of the company, sorry. I haven’t seen Kevin’s dad in a while, but I always thought he was pretty cool when he was around. He took us to a couple of ball games, and I think he took Kevin hunting and fishing. I went camping with them one weekend, probably six or seven years ago. Everything seemed normal back then.”

Jesse squirmed in his seat when he noticed Fornell taking notes.

“Kev once told me he wished we could trade parents. My mom is so different than his. She doted on him all the time when he was at our house. I think he really liked the attention and kind of felt like he was part of a family. Weird, huh? I think Kev’s just hoping to get through this last year of high school, then I think he’s planning on joining the Army or something.”

Jesse took a minute to take another drink of water and take a deep breath. He hated feeling like he was betraying his childhood friend, but if there was even a chance he was the shooter he really needed some serious help. Jesse cleared his throat before continuing.

“He used to be pretty cool. We hung out a lot until last year. He kind of flaked out when his parents split. Up until then, we went to football games together on Friday nights, normal stuff like that. Just hung out. Then later I got into sports and cars and girls, and he got into video games. I went out for football and wrestling, and he was in a science club and worked on the yearbook for a while. He was always kind of a little guy. Got picked on for being scrawny but he always laughed it off. Far as I know, he got along fine with everyone. Even the guys who picked on him liked him. It’s not like they beat him up and stole his lunch money, or shoved him into his locker. It wasn’t bullying or anything like that. They just razzed him a little bit. Heck, some of the guys gave him workout pointers and sometimes he’d come in and lift with us in the mornings before school. They’d ask him for help with homework, you know like writing papers and stuff, too, and he was always happy to do it. He’s really smart but not real social. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him at a party.”

“He’s a serious gamer. All of those gory combat and shoot ‘em up games. He was into Yu-Gi-Oh, too. Don’t know if he still is, though. It’s a geeky card game, kind of like Dungeons and Dragons without the weird dice, I think. That was another club he was in at school - in junior high. I’ve never played it so I don’t really know. Anyway, while the rest of us go out and party, he pretty much spends all of his free weekends online. I really can’t believe he’d actually do something like this. I mean, I never would have said anything to the agent yesterday if Kev hadn’t said a bunch of stuff before, and he’d kind of get all weird and excited when there was a shooting on the news. I think it was just a weird fantasy of his.”

Tony shook his head at Gibbs. It was ironic how much Kevin sounded like a teen-angsty McGee - a socially awkward gamer who spent his weekends online. Except for all of his social misadventures and general geekiness, at least McGee had a solid grasp on reality and wasn’t known to be prone to fits of violence.

Gibbs took a chance and asked, “Did you see him yesterday around the time of the shooting?”

Fornell shot Gibbs a look but allowed the question. ‘Leave it to Gibbs to get right to the heart of the matter,’ he thought.

“I’m not really sure, to be honest. I saw someone run by me then get into a tan car. It looked kind of like his mom’s car. She drives a newer light gold or tanish Corolla. She lets him drive it to work and stuff, sometimes to school. Anyway, they were the same height as Kevin and pretty thin. I couldn’t see their face that well because they had on a gray hoodie pulled kind of tight, but I could tell they had long dark hair. Some of it was sticking out the sides under the hood. Kev has long hair, about shoulder length or so. It’s dark brown. He sometimes wears it in a ponytail or braid. I think he has to for work, but I’m not really sure. I yelled out his name, and the person stopped for a second then took off running again. That’s about all I can tell you,” Jesse finished with a shrug.

Fornell looked up for the legal pad he had been jotting down notes on and asked, “You have any idea where Kevin might be now, where we might find him?”

“He wasn’t at home? I gave the agent I talked to his address,” Jesse stated.

Fornell shook his head.

“He wasn’t there when we showed up last evening. His mother said she didn’t know where he was; she hadn’t seen him all day. I called her this morning and she said he never came home last night,” Fornell replied.

Jesse ran his hands down his face and leaned back in his chair. He shrugged helplessly.

“All I know is he works at Giant part-time. I don’t know which store, though. I don’t know what his schedule is, but it’s usually a few hours a couple of nights a week and some weekends during the day. That’s what he worked last year during the school year anyway. He might work more hours now since it’s summer. I really don’t know. He may have a different job now for all I know. We haven’t really talked a lot lately, not very much since school got out in May. Other than that, if he’s not at home or at work I have no clue where he’d be.”

While Fornell jotted more notes, Tony asked, “How long has he been talking about doing something like this?”

Jesse turned and looked at Tony for a moment. He didn’t find Tony as intimidating as the other two agents seated across the table. Something about him told Jesse he could trust him.

“Off and on for a couple of years. I never took it seriously, but recently he started going to a shooting range on the weekends. He said something about needing target practice. I didn’t ask him what for. I dropped him off a couple of times on my way to work when his mom needed her car. I work at a Subway on weekends so I could drop him off on the way. Anyway, he’s seemed really pissed off lately about something, but he hasn’t talked to me about it. We’re not close friends anymore or anything, not like we were in grade school. Kind of grew apart over the years, you know. ”

“You know what kind of gun he owned?” Gibbs chimed in and asked bluntly.

“No! Look, I don’t know anything about guns. Not my thing. If he had one, he must have kept it at the range or rented one there, I don’t know how that works, but he never had one in the car that I ever saw. I have no idea where he would have gotten one,” Jesse stated.

Fornell shot warning looks at Tony and Gibbs to shut down their line of questioning then asked, “And you have no idea what he was pissed about?”

“No, sir. He just mumbled something about the pigs, as he called them, harassing his cousin.”

Fornell leaned across the table again.

“This cousin have a name?”

“Yeah, um, let me think, um … Joe or Joey. Yeah, that’s it. Last name is something Italian sounding.”

Jesse took another drink of water then huffed out a laugh.

“Kev called him some stupid nickname, uh …. Joey Pats or something like that, like he was in the Mafia. Pretty lame, right?”

Fornell saw Gibbs’ immediate reaction out of the corner of his eye. Across the table, Tony closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Gibbs visibly tensed and his hands clenched into fists. He was tightly wound and about to blow. Fornell knew all the warning signs and decided it would be best to spare young Jesse Hartnell from suffering the wrath of Gibbs.

Gibbs abruptly stood and left the room, throwing the door open with enough force to leave a door knob sized dent in the wall. Tony patted Jesse on the shoulder before standing and silently following Gibbs out.

Jesse tensed in his seat. His eyes went wide and he swallowed hard.

“Man, that guy looks pissed. Am I in trouble now?” Jesse asked.

Fornell cracked a tight grin.

“No, Jesse, you’re not in trouble. Those two are upset because one of the shooting victims from yesterday is also an NCIS agent and friend of theirs. They were there working a case when the shooting happened. He’s going to be laid up for a while, but it sounds like he’ll be okay.”

“Oh man,” Jesse whispered in reply.

“Before I let you go, Jesse, I just have a few more routine questions.”

For the next twenty minutes, Fornell pinned Jesse down on where exactly he was when the shooting started, who he was with, and what he saw before, during, and after the shooting. He added basic questions about where Jesse worked, who some of his other friends were, who might be able to shed some light on the shooting or Kevin’s behavior, to get more information about Kevin’s parent and family life, and specifically how to locate Kevin’s dad. Fornell had a feeling he would be able to get more information from him than Kevin’s overprotective mother.

Fornell stood and pushed his chair under the table. Jesse followed suit. Fornell handed Jesse his card, which Jesse shoved into his back pocket.

“Okay, I think we’re done here for now. Thank you for your time. I may need to call you in again if we need more information. In the meantime, give me a call if you hear from Kevin. You have my work and cell numbers. I need to talk to him about a few things. It would be better for your friend to come in on his own to answer a few questions instead of agent Gibbs finding him.”

“Sure. Yeah, no problem. If I hear from him I will definitely let you know. And if you find him, be cool. He’s not a bad guy. Like I said, just a little messed up. By the way, why did mentioning Kevin’s cousin set that guy off?”

Fornell exhaled loudly.

“That’s a long story, and all I can tell you is that the guy your friend calls Joey Pats may be involved in some pretty illegal stuff. A sting to bust him went south not too long ago, and agent DiNozzo took a hell of a beating trying to arrest him. Gibbs takes that kind of thing personally,” Fornell explained.

“Yeah. Um, I was told they impounded my car when they brought me in for questioning yesterday. How do I get it back?” Jesse turned and asked.

Fornell smiled. “I’ll call down to security. Just stop by the security desk in the lobby on your way out. They’ll tell you where you can pick up your car in the lot.”

When they were finished, Fornell turned Jesse over to a guard to be escorted out. He thanked him again for his time and shook his hand.

* * *

After his chat with Jesse, Fornell just wanted to close himself in his office and drink about a gallon of coffee and maybe take a nap. He was bone tired from running on adrenaline and greasy fast food since he got the call about the shooting. When he finally reached his office after stopping to confer with the Deputy Director, Fornell found Gibbs and Tony waiting for him. He pushed his office door shut and sighed.

“I figured you two were long gone by now. You okay, Jethro?” Fornell asked, his tone uncharacteristically genuine.

Gibbs’ eyes flashed.

“Pantangelo? Seriously? You think that SOB put his little cousin up to this to what, get revenge?”

Fornell shrugged and dropped down into the leather chair behind his desk.

“It sure would explain a lot. Might even clear David. I think we’re gonna need to track down this Kevin McClelland character and have a little chat with him, and by we I mean my team. Stay away from him, Jethro. This is not your case and I don’t need you coming in and fucking it all up.”

Tony turned from where he had been looking out the window and shouted, “Oh come on! That idiot Pantangelo would have had to know we were there. He would have had to know that the body on the Mall we were sent to investigate, Lieutenant Martell, was Navy - and just how the hell would he know that? What, you think he was sitting around listening to a police scanner then called his little cousin and said, “Hey cuz, got a little job for ya? Give me a break. That’s a little too neat, don’t you think?”

Gibbs stood wide-eyed while Fornell held up his hands in surrender. Tony stomped around Fornell’s office clearly in an agitated state. Bringing up Pantangelo was a trigger, and both Gibbs and Fornell knew it. No one was more surprised than Fornell when Pantagelo made bail after being arraigned for felony assault on a federal officer, among a slew of other charges.

“All right, calm down DiNozzo. I’m just saying it’s possible. We don’t know much of anything right now. Early days, you know? Just throwing it out there. You still think it’s David, don’t you?” Fornell countered.

Tony ran a hand through his hair then dropped both hands at his sides.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know. I wouldn’t put anything past her right now. For all we know she and Pantangelo are working together, or she threatened him. God knows there’s enough in his case file to use against him. That makes more sense to me. Gives them both plausible deniability or they can flip on each other. And who would the cops believe? If Ziva has been watching us, any of us, she could have very easily followed us to the scene. Everything went to hell in a damn hurry for it to be a coincidence in my book. But I will say this; if Ziva wanted to kill McGee or me or Gibbs or anyone, she would have done it with a single shot between the eyes. But I can’t think of one damn reason why she’d target McGee, of all people! What the hell did he ever do to her? No, her problem is with me. And no fatalities tells me a lot - if she was involved.”

Gibbs nodded in agreement. It was hard to argue with Tony’s thoughts on the matter since he knew Ziva and her methods better than probably anyone. Ziva was an expert shot and knew how to shoot to wound and not kill. It was one way to cover her tracks.

“DiNozzo, you heard McGee the other night. What you don’t know is that McGee confronted Ziva right after you took off. I had just met with Vance. I walked in and overheard the last part of their conversation. All I can tell you is he was defending you. And, by the look on his face and what he said to me later, whatever she said about you really upset him. She could have been pissed about that,” Gibbs offered.

At Tony’s stunned expression, Gibbs turned to Fornell.

“And you believe this kid, Jesse? Think he told us everything he knows?” Gibbs asked.

Fornell leaned forward and rested his elbows on his desk and exhaled loudly.

“Actually, I think I do. Had to be tough, you know, giving that much information to us about a so-called friend. I’m hoping right now Jesse is talking to his buddy Kevin and convincing him to turn himself in. It sure would save us all a lot of trouble if we didn’t have to go take this kid down the hard way.”

Gibbs looked from Tony to Fornell and back to Tony.

“Okay. You just keep us posted. Come on, DiNozzo, let’s go. You promised McGee we’d check in on him then we have work to do. Should probably stop and get Abby a Caf-Pow! on the way,” Gibbs said as he headed for the door. He tossed his empty coffee cup into the trash with more force than necessary. Fornell snorted.

“Jethro!” Fornell called out causing Gibbs to stop in his tracks. “Tell McGee we’re gonna catch the son of a bitch. We’ll do whatever it takes. I will call you as soon as I know anything, but I’m warning you, both of you, … stay out of this investigation.”

Gibbs cracked an infuriating half grin and followed Tony out the door.

* * *

Outside the Hoover Building, Jesse lit a Camel Light and took a drag. Walking to his car at the back of the FBI impound lot, Jesse pulled out his cell phone and punched in a familiar number. The call connected after three rings.

“Dude, we gotta talk,” Jesse says as he unlocked the door and climbed in behind the wheel. “Where are you? I’m gonna come and pick you up. No, don’t give me that shit! I’m on my way right damn now. This is super important. It’s about the shit that went down yesterday. Yeah, the shooting, what do you think I meant? What the hell else would it be? I think I’m in big trouble, man. I just spent the last couple of hours getting grilled by the FB freaking I! No I’m not fucking kidding! Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be there in fifteen.”

Jesse ended the call then squealed out of the impound lot past the little guard house. In his rearview mirror he saw the guard shaking his head as he closed and locked the chain link fence gate behind him.

* * *

Gibbs made a pest of himself harassing Fornell several times a day for information. All Fornell could offer was that his forensic team was making progress lifting prints from the shell casings and discarded clip found at the scene. It was delicate work that required a light touch, he argued. The daunting task was testing to see if there were any skin cells present on the ammunition or clip that could possibly lead to the identity of the shooter. It was a long shot, but it’s all they had.

They still didn’t have a useful description of the alleged shooter but after talking to dozens of possible eyewitnesses a usable profile was beginning to emerge. Many law enforcement agencies were diligently tracking down every lead and tip called into the tipline set up by the FBI. It was eerily reminiscent of the D.C. sniper case with daily briefings by an FBI spokesman, local law enforcement, and updates on the condition of the victims. Even members of Congress ran to banks of microphones so they could put in their two cents and plead for help from the voters.

Kevin McClelland was acting like he had something to hide. Follow up calls to his distraught mother and his furious boss at Giant yielded nothing. Kevin hadn’t been home in days or shown up for work. Neither his boss nor his mother could shed any light on where he might be. Calls to the cell number Jesse had given him went straight to voicemail. Fornell really hoped Jesse wasn’t covering for his friend. Maybe he should have warned him that a federal obstruction charge would not look good on a resume or college application.

The shooter may still be in the wind, but Team Gibbs felt they were getting closer to identifying a suspect in the murder of Lt. Martell. Agents Woods and Malloy were under the mistaken impression that they worked banker’s hours, leaving Tony and Gibbs to do most of the heavy lifting on the investigation.

Gibbs divided his time between Autopsy and Abby’s lab hoping to uncover anything that would bring them closer to solving the case. Smudges of blood had been found on the lieutenant’s body and clothing, but no matter how much he demanded quick answers Abby shut him down insisting that she was still a good 12 hours from having a definitive DNA result that would hold up in court.

He had better luck in Autopsy. Ducky confirmed that blunt force trauma to the head was indeed the proximate cause of death. Lt. Martell had ligature marks on her wrists and ankles indicating that she had been tightly bound. Ducky was most disturbed that it also appeared that the young woman had been savagely raped prior to death.

“Abigail has determined with some degree of certainty that the instrument of death was a tire iron. One good blow and our lovely lieutenant would have likely died instantly. Unfortunately, it appears that she suffered horribly prior to that.”

Gibbs was about to leave Autopsy when he did something completely unexpected. He crooked a finger at Palmer beckoning him over to Ducky’s desk.

Palmer’s eyes went wide and he swallowed hard. He dropped the instruments he was cleaning into the stainless steel sink with a clatter then crept over to Gibbs at a cautious pace. Even after nearly a decade, Gibbs still scared the hell out of him. Ducky looked on warily.

“Yes … um, yes, Agent Gibbs, sir?” Palmer stammered.

Gibbs grinned ever so slightly. He wondered if Palmer would ever relax in his presence.

“I never got a chance to thank you for what you did yesterday - helping McGee. I’m not sure running to him while bullets were flying was stupid or brave, but you did good, Palmer. Don’t think McGee would still be with us if you hadn’t gotten to him as fast as you did, so thank you.”

Palmer’s jaw dropped but he shook the offered hand. Ducky smiled and walked over to join the two of them.

“Yes, Jethro, we are all quite proud of Mr. Palmer’s grace under fire,” Ducky announced proudly, patting his young assistant on the back.

Palmer beamed at his mentor.

* * *

Tony worked diligently to pull together as much information as he could find on the lieutenant, which wasn’t very much. He begged Gibbs to let McGee work from home remotely to help dig up information.

“Gibbs, we could really use McHacker on this. He says he’s feeling fine, and he’s bored out of his mind sitting at home all alone and wants to help. Told me he’s even sick of playing video games, if you can believe that. And you know he can dig up more information in ten minutes than I can in ten hours.”

Gibbs sighed.

“Okay, we’ll take his laptop to him. I’m sure he can figure out how to tunnel in from home, but I want to see for myself that he’s up to it. He needs rest. You better than anyone should know what happens when you come back to work too soon.”

Tony nodded, recalling his earlier than scheduled return to work after his bout with pneumonic plague. He had still been a bit weak and exhausted from coughing day and night, but he had been going stir crazy. And how could he ever forget Gibbs welcoming him back with a head slap then later telling him he looked “like crap”? At least he saved McGee and Kate from getting blown up later that morning.

Tony and Gibbs left work early on Thursday to check in with McGee, leaving Woods and Malloy to man the phones and conduct interviews with Lt. Martell’s roommate, friends, and co-workers.

By late Friday afternoon the pieces began to fall together. Woods had spoken at length with the lieutenant’s roommate Kari. He reported that Lt. Martell had recently broken up with her boyfriend of two years, a guy named Johnny Stewart. He had washed out of the Marine Corps and ended up working on the docks. He had not taken the breakup well, calling Lt. Martell all hours of the day and night for almost two months and leaving cryptic, creepy messages. Lt. Martell had to change her phone number, but he was always able to track her down. She reported him on social media sites that did nothing since they claimed his actions did not violate their terms of service.

Woods and Malloy let out sighs of relief when Gibbs called it a day at 1830. Tony sat at his desk and shook his head as both men grabbed their go bags and prepared to bolt. Their relief was short-lived when Gibbs ordered them back at 0700 the next morning. Both men groaned and protested that they had weekend plans.

Gibbs responded to the whining by glaring, growling, and slamming his desk drawer shut after retrieving his Sig and making a hasty exit. Tony stood to follow Gibbs to the elevator, stopping briefly in the middle of the bullpen to explain that Gibbs was a relentless justice hound and he’d keep them working around the clock if he could until they found the lieutenant’s killer.

“As long as you’re on Team Gibbs, you better get used to giving up your weekends, fellas,” Tony stated as he shouldered his backpack and trotted to the elevator. He took Gibbs’ crooked smirk at him as tacit approval.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: My apologies for taking forever, or sometimes failing, to personally reply to reviews and comments. I read them all and I appreciate every single one of them.
> 
> Summary: An unexpected visitor shows up and invites even more questions. Can anyone be trusted? 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own any recognizable people or places. I make no money from this, and no copyright infringement is intended.

The elevator shuddered to a stop. As the doors opened at the main entrance lobby, Gibbs turned and placed a hand in the middle of Tony’s chest and backed him up a few steps before he could step off the elevator.

“Would you mind if we stayed at my place this weekend? I need to pick up my mail and pay some bills, and I’d like to spend a little time on the new boat. It’s been a while and I could really use the distraction. We can stop by your place if you need to pick up some things.”

Gibbs turned and stepped off the elevator, and headed for the door, shouldering past one gobsmacked colleague with a barely audible “‘scuse me.” He was completely oblivious to the newest agency scandal he just launched.

A slightly blushing Tony, amused by the astonished looks from a small group of night shift analysts waiting to get on the elevator, winked and smiled sweetly at the assembled gawkers. Let them think what they wanted.

Going to Gibbs’ house sounded like a great idea. Tony enjoyed sitting on the steps and watching Gibbs work. He didn’t know the first thing about woodworking or tools, but he was fascinated by the process that went into constructing one of Gibbs’ legendary boats. Never mind deceptively sinewy arms and torso rippling beneath a cotton t-shirt worn thin from years of use, or how rivulets of sweat ran from graying temples and down Gibbs’ neck, or how his strong hands firmly but gently stroked and massaged the wood. Wait, what?

With that semi-erotic vision of his sweaty, sawdust-covered boss in his head, Tony jogged to catch up to Gibbs and stammered, “Uh sure. I just need to grab a few things. Should only take a few minutes. Hey, does this mean we get cowboy steaks for dinner? I’m starved! It’s been ages since I’ve had a good steak and yours are the best.”

Gibbs chuckled. No one appreciated his fireplace grilling skills quite the way Tony did.

“You read my mind.”

* * *

Gibbs sipped on a generous tumbler of bourbon while Tony packed a couple of changes of clothes, casual and work, his PJs, toiletries, and running gear into his gym bag. He doubted Gibbs would let him go running, but he wanted to be prepared just in case. How dangerous could the quiet suburban streets of Gibbs’ neighborhood be?

Since Gibbs only subscribed to basic cable Tony knew he would need to entertain himself during much of his stay, so he threw his laptop and DVD player into the bag as well. Thankfully Gibbs, armed with recommended technical specs provided by McGee, had finally replaced his dinosaur of a black and white console TV with a 42” flat screen.

Tony let Gibbs pick out a couple of movies from his extensive collection. Not surprising, he chose two war flicks - “Platoon” and “Sands of Iwo Jima.” Both were great movies, but in Tony’s opinion a little too heavy considering the current circumstances. He selected a couple of random comedies to balance things out a bit.

* * *

As soon as he stepped into his kitchen from the garage, Gibbs’ phone pinged that he had a new voicemail. He set an armload of grocery bags on the counter and flipped his phone open. Gibbs cursed under his breath - it was Fornell. How did he not hear it ring? Maybe the ‘ringer thingy’ was broken again, or maybe because it was because Tony hardly stopped talking to draw a breath the whole way from his place?

Gibbs stabbed at the voicemail icon.

“Jethro, it’s 5:45 Friday. Kevin McClelland is here with me to make a statement. We’re gonna have a little chat. I’ll be sure to ask lots of questions. I’ll let you know how it goes,” Fornell announced. Before ending the call, he chirped, “You and DiNutso have a nice evening. I’ll talk to you later.”

Gibbs punched in Fornell’s cell number.

“Dammit, Tobias, you will call me as soon as you are done interrogating this McClelland kid. If you don’t, I swear I will track him down and get answers myself, you can bank on it!” Gibbs barked into his phone when his call back to Fornell went straight to voicemail. He snapped his cell phone shut and clipped it back on his belt.

“That son of a bitch,” Gibbs growled. “It looks like that kid Jesse talked his friend Kevin into giving himself up. Jesse took him to the Hoover Building a couple of hours ago. Now Fornell won’t take my damn calls!”

Tony snorted as he brushed past Gibbs to drop his bag and other essentials at the foot of the stairs in the front entryway. He then set to work hooking up his DVD player to Gibbs’ TV before returning to the kitchen.

“Oh relax, Jethro, oops, sorry, I mean Boss,” Tony chirped with a grin. “Fornell just doesn’t want you riding in to solve his case and steal his thunder. You know how it is. Besides, I bet he hates being interrupted during interrogations just as much as you do. I’m sure he’ll let you know the minute he’s done with young Kevin.”

“He damn well better!”

Smirking, Tony placed his hands on Gibbs’ shoulders and steered him toward the small cabinet in the dining room that served as a bar.

“Grab a beer or pour yourself some bourbon and chill, will ‘ya? We’ll have a nice dinner, then you can tear Fornell a proverbial new one later. You go get the fire ready and I’ll take care of the rest.”

Gibbs grumbled, but acquiesced. The beaming smile leveled at him made it hard to deny the request. He stopped by the bar and poured himself three fingers of Jack on his way to the living room.

It was a good thing there was a grocery store close to Gibbs’ house. It had been over a week since he had been shopping. They picked up a couple of t-bone steaks, potatoes, and a six-pack of beer while debating whether or not to include a green veggie on the dinner menu. Knowing of Gibbs’ aversion to peas, Tony grabbed a bag of frozen microwave steamable broccoli. He included some other basic grocery items to get them through the weekend.

While Gibbs got a fire started in the fireplace, Tony peeled and cut up half a dozen potatoes and put them in a pan of water on the stove. The exhausting mess of a week called for homemade garlic mashed potatoes!

* * *

Tony grabbed a bottle of beer and was about to check on Gibbs’ fire building progress in the living room when heard a noise coming from under the basement door. Tony turned off the burner under the pot of potatoes that had just started to boil and called out to Gibbs.

“Gibbs! You hear that?” he asked.

Gibbs was already by the basement door with his Sig drawn.

“Yeah, I heard. You got your weapon on you?” Gibbs asked.

Tony drew his Sig from his holster and was on Gibbs’ six within seconds, with the safety off.

They crept down into the depths of the basement together. Tony paid close attention to where Gibbs placed his feet on the treads since he would know which steps creaked. Gibbs flipped a switch at the bottom of the stairs to turn on the light hanging over the beginning stages some new project in the middle of the basement. The light from the bare bulb cast eerie shadows on the concrete floor and walls. It provided just enough light to walk around without tripping over anything, but it kept the corners and storage space beneath the stairs shrouded in darkness.

Just as Gibbs moved to turn on the brighter fluorescent lights hanging above the L-shaped workbench, they heard a rustling noise emanating from the dark recess beneath the stairs.

Tony and Gibbs spun around and trained their guns on the darkness.

Panting, Tony whispered, “I really hope that’s not a giant rat or a rabid raccoon.”

In a flash, Gibbs grabbed his trusty Maglight flashlight from its nearby charger on the wall and directed a powerful beam of light into the void.

“Federal agents! Get your ass out here with your hands up,” Gibbs commanded. Tony stood next to him with his Sig trained on the shadowy figure crouched in the corner.

The lone figure, dressed head to toe in black, did as instructed and emerged from their hiding place, hands up in surrender.

“Ziva? What the hell?” Tony questioned a moment later when she stepped into the light. He didn’t know what he expected to find hiding in Gibbs’ basement, but it certainly was not a dirty, disheveled Ziva David.

Dirt was smudged on her ashen face. Messy tendrils of hair normally pulled back into a tight, severe ponytail had come loose and hung down to frame her face.

Ziva stood motionless and said nothing while Gibbs patted her down. He paid close attention to where she was known to conceal backup weapons. After taking a small .22 caliber gun from an ankle holster and a rather large switchblade from her waistband, Gibbs backed up to stand next to Tony.

“You got anything else on you I should know about?” Gibbs asked. His raised left eyebrow was a well-known warning that any answer other than the God’s honest truth would be ill-advised.

Ziva croaked out a timid, “You know that I do not.”

“Okay, so you want to tell me why you’re hiding out in my basement?” Gibbs demanded, holstering his sidearm.

Before she could answer Tony shifted his stance and chimed in.

“See what happens when you never lock the damn door?” Tony chided, getting a quiet snort in response.

Gibbs may have relaxed his stance, but Tony kept his gun trained on his former partner.

Ziva cleared her throat and took a few steps forward.

“Not so fast. Stop right there and keep those hands up,” Tony commanded.

“Tony, relax will ‘ya. She’s not going to do a goddamn thing, are you Ziver?” Gibbs challenged.

“I am not here to cause trouble or to hurt you or anyone, Tony. As you can see, I am unarmed,” Ziva stated, motioning to the weapons Gibbs had taken from her and tossed on the workbench.

“Then why the hell are you here?” Tony demanded. His booming voice echoed.

“I came to speak with Gibbs. After what has happened - after I was escorted out of NCIS like a common criminal - I think I deserve a chance to clear my name, do I not?” Ziva asked.

Tony stood stunned for a moment before advancing on Ziva.

“Are you freaking serious right now? You think anything you say, which I’m sure will be another truck load of lies, is going to clear your name? You’re insane!”

“Tony, at ease!” Gibbs barked. “Let’s take this upstairs where we can sit down and talk.”

Tony gaped at Gibbs.

“Talk? What could we possibly have to talk about?” Tony protested. “What the hell, Gibbs? Aren’t you at least gonna cuff her?”

Gibbs shot Tony a stern look than began to climb the stairs, leaving Tony and Ziva locked in a no-win stare down. Tony grabbed Ziva’s weapons off of the workbench then motioned for her to follow Gibbs.

“After you,” Tony said keeping a wary eye on her. “No way in hell do I trust you to be behind me. Move it!”

Ziva huffed at the display of distrust but slowly climbed the stairs and followed Gibbs into the kitchen. Tony kept his gun trained on her every step of the way.

* * *

The three sat around Gibbs’ dining table in an odd parody of a Mexican standoff. Suspicious looks were exchanged but no one spoke. The tension was palpable. Three sweating bottles of ice cold beer sat untouched before them.

Once he had Ziva sized up and decided she wasn’t an immediate threat, Gibbs leaned back in his chair with his arms crossed in a more relaxed posture. Having spent years watching and taking non-verbal cues from Gibbs, Tony sat upright. When Gibbs relaxed, Tony became more alert and ever vigilant. Gibbs trusted Tony implicitly to have his six no matter what, and Tony wasn’t about to let him down on that score. His hand went to where his gun rested on his hip. He was poised and ready for anything. Ziva looked cool and dangerous seated across the table from him.

Gibbs kept Ziva pinned in place with an inquisitive look, allowing Tony to take the lead.

“So, I guess we should start with what happened the other day. Big shooting downtown. You may have heard about it. It’s kinda been all over the news. We were out doing our jobs when all of a sudden somebody started shooting up the place. I don’t suppose you know anything about that? You wouldn’t happen to be the one who shot up the Memorial and put McGee and a dozen others in the hospital, would ‘ya?” Tony asked accusingly.

Ziva’s eyes went wide and she gasped. Out of the corner of his eye, Tony saw both of Gibbs’ eyebrows shoot up.

“Of course not! I cannot believe you would even ask me such a question, Tony. Why would I want to shoot McGee?” Ziva retorted.

Tony shrugged.

“Good question. I have no idea, but I’m guessing you were probably hoping it was me.” Tony answered.

“DiNozzo!” Gibbs growled.

Tony abruptly stood and began pacing as his anger built. Months if not years of frustration had brought him - them - to this moment. His chair teetered on two legs before setting back down on all four.

He gesticulated wildly while he prepared to vent. Was he mad at Ziva or Gibbs or both? It didn’t matter; either way he had finally reached his limit.

“No, Boss, she needs to hear this. And weren’t you singing a different tune just a few days ago in Fornell’s office? Did something change I should know about? I mean, she didn’t get what she wanted when she fucked up our last op, so I wouldn’t put it past her to literally be gunning for me now. And if she took out McGee by mistake, so what, right? What I don’t get is why?”

Getting no reaction from Gibbs, Tony stopped and directed his ire at Ziva. His green eyes expressed restrained fury as he loomed over her. Her eyes were cold and black, giving away nothing in return.

“What the hell did I ever do to you, Ziva? I’ve had your back for years, from day damn one, but you just keep trying to get me taken out. I’ve had the shit beat out of me more than once because of you. Your own father admitted that your buddy Rivkin was a set up, so you can stop blaming me for that whole mess. Sorry if he and daddy dearest used you, but they played you not me. You talk shit about me all the time and have everyone thinking you are this unbeatable super agent and I’m just the big idiot standing in your way. You want my job, is that it? You just want me out of the way so you can get closer to Gibbs? Or have you set your sights even higher? After McGee and I - and Gibbs, I might add - literally put our lives on the line to save your sorry ass in Somalia, this is how you pay us back?”

Breathless and out of gas, Tony dropped back down into his chair, glared at Ziva then took a long pull from his beer bottle.

Gibbs nodded at Tony then sat forward and looked Ziva straight in the eye. In the abstract he could picture Ziva seeking vengeance, but having her in his home, sitting at his dinner table, gave him pause to outright condemn her. That did not mean he wasn’t harboring major distrust.

“I had to bench you, and you damn well know why. I didn’t give Vance much of a choice. We have a serious trust problem here and that’s probably my fault. I’ve let you two compete with each other, but it’s obviously gotten out of hand. I should have put a stop to it a long time ago but I didn’t. Vance seems to think we have to keep you around because of some upcoming joint mission in Beirut involving a team of Navy Seals and Mossad. But I can’t … I won’t … have people on my team if I can’t trust them, and right now I don’t trust you. You screwed the pooch big time and tried to place all the blame on Tony. He was beaten and bloody. He’d been stabbed, but you didn’t care. You let it happen. Hell, you watched it happen, and you did nothing to stop it! You didn’t even check to see if Tony was okay after McGee and I got there. A Metro cop died because of you, Ziva. A couple of Feds ended up in the hospital because of you. You had a simple job to do - observe and report - and you made the choice to disobey my direct orders, to hell with the consequences. I read your report and Tony’s, and I personally debriefed Fornell’s men. Funny how only Tony’s report comes close to what all of the FBI agents on the scene, including Fornell, said went down. We have audio of the whole thing, and there isn’t one thing that backs up your version of the events that night. Now, tell me, how to propose clearing your name?”

Tony sat back and blinked. He didn’t think he’d ever heard Gibbs say so much at one time in all the years he’d known him. But since he was speaking on his behalf and in his defense, Tony wanted to hear more. He cocked his head at Ziva and waited for her reply. He could almost see the gears in her head turning as she attempted to come up with a plausible excuse.

Ziva straightened up and began to speak. She kept her hands folded on top of the table. Her voice was soft at first then built into a crescendo.

“It is true that I am not always good at taking or following orders. In Mossad we are trained to do what must be done to complete a mission and to survive. We are not so constrained by rules and procedures. I do not need anyone to have my back or to take care of me. Growing up I never had that luxury. Mossad teaches us how to fight and win, no matter the enemy or the circumstances. I think I have proven that. Sometimes sacrifices have to be made to meet a mission objective. It is a matter of our very survival. Sometimes it is people you know and like, even friends, who must be sacrificed. It is for the greater good, and I will not apologize for doing what I thought was right.”

Tony gaped and shook his head, and muttered, “Wow!”

Gibbs crossed his arms over his chest again and glared at Ziva.

“Do I need to remind you, again, that you are no longer Mossad? That you work for me? That you are here and work in and for the United States? That we have rules and regulations in place for a reason? And I’m not just talking my rules; and God knows you break plenty of those. I’m talking about the laws of this country and rules that dictate how we do our jobs. For one, we do not sacrifice innocent people or other agents just to get the job done! I don’t give a damn what Mossad training taught you, we also don’t allow rogue agents to go off half cocked. We work as a team until I say otherwise. It’s for everyone’s safety, and to get the job done. You got that? Those rules apply to everyone, so if you want to play by Mossad rules, I suggest you pack your trash and go home to Eli and Mossad. If you want to be on my team, play by my rules, and follow our laws, then we have a lot of work ahead of us,” Gibbs stated coldly.

“Well Boss, if she does want to stay, then we have a big problem, well, two actually,” Tony offered with a nod.

Gibbs looked at Tony with a hint of a grin on his lips.

“And that would be?” Gibbs asked.

“Well, for one, she ruined our cowboy steak dinner and I’m starved, and two, there is no way in hell I will work with her again. I don’t care what you or Vance or the other big shots think or say, I don’t trust her and I don’t see that ever changing,” Tony stated flatly. “No sir, I’m done putting my ass on the line just so she can shoot it off.”

The look that crossed Ziva’s face confirmed that Tony’s brutally honest statement hit home and stung. Was it regret? Shock? Contrition? Shame?

Seeing that his verbal blow hit the mark, Tony changed tack and pushed on before Ziva could collect herself. He was in full interrogation mode, and Gibbs sat back and watched to see how it would play out.

“So what can you tell us about Pantangelo?” he asked.

“Who?” Ziva asked in reply.

“Don’t bullshit me, Ziva. Sergeant Pantangelo. The giant Marine who tried to kill me not so long ago, remember him? He’s the guy we were supposed to take down in the raid until you fucked it all up,” Tony shot back.

Tony cocked his head and narrowed his eyes at Ziva.

“Or have you been working with Pantangelo from the beginning hoping to set this all up? Is that why you lead me right to him that night, so he could get the drop on me? Were you hoping he’d kill me then I’d be out of your way?”

Tony looked from Ziva to Gibbs and back. He couldn’t believe he was having to ask these questions.

“Oh, and his little cousin is a possible shooting suspect. Fornell’s all over that. Could be the one who opened fire on our crime scene and shot McGee. Still going through evidence. Kind of a coincidence, though, dontcha think? And in case you were wondering, and I’m sure you were, McGee is gonna be okay. Thought you might want to know.”

Gibbs glared at Ziva, who set her jaw defiantly.

“Well? You got an answer for that?” Gibbs demanded.

Ziva sat stunned at the accusations leveled at her. She stammered as she tried but failed to find words to defend herself.

Gibbs stood.

“Okay, here’s what we’re gonna do. Tony’s right, you ruined our dinner. Also, you broke into my house, armed, so unless you can give me a good reason I’m going to have to call this in. There’s been a BOLO out for you for the past week. I’m thinking breaking and entering and suspicion of the attempted murder of a federal agent might be a good place to start, but I’ll let Vance and Fornell sort out the charges and who gets custody of you.”

Ziva crossed her arms across her chest.

“I think I would like to speak with an attorney,” she said in a shaky voice.

She seemed to shrink before their eyes as Gibbs looked down at her.

“You better get a really good one.”

He stood and smiled at Tony.

“You still hungry? I think we can have that steak dinner now. I just gotta throw another log or two on the fire.”

Tony stood and beamed victoriously at Gibbs.

“You know me, I can always eat. Let me go turn the taters back on.”

Tony snatched his beer and Ziva’s from the table and headed for the kitchen.

Gibbs chuckled then pulled out his phone.

“Anyone you want me to call before I call Vance?”

Ziva looked cornered and scared. She looked up at Gibbs with pleading eyes.

“Gibbs. You do not seriously think I was involved in Tony getting hurt that night, or shooting McGee, do you?” she asked.

Gibbs sat back down and sighed before speaking.

“Involved? With what? Setting up DiNozzo to get taken out on the docks, or shooting McGee and a bunch of innocent people and terrorizing DC? Dammit Ziva! I don’t want to think you are capable of doing any of it, but you haven’t given me anything. You just said yourself that sometimes innocent people have to be sacrificed. You’re a trained assassin for God’s sake! You know how to shoot to kill and how to shoot a person just to wound them. If you have something solid, some proof that you haven’t been working with Pantangelo or anyone else, you better get a lawyer and tell them all about it. I hope you have a damn good alibi for Monday’s shooting. We’re still waiting on forensics. I guess until then, you better not say anything else to me. I really hate to do this, Ziva, but you are under arrest. Now, I need you to stand and put your hands behind your back.”

She rose slowly and did as instructed. Gibbs pulled a set of cuffs from his back pocket and secured Ziva’s hands behind her as he read her the civilian Miranda warning by rote.

“This is for all of our safety. You understand?” Gibbs said as he helped Ziva sit back down.

Gibbs walked out into the living room to make a couple of phone calls and stoke the fire. He kept one eye fixed on Ziva. He could just barely make out Tony whistling a tune in the kitchen. He unclipped his phone and flipped it open to press speed dial 3.

“Yeah Leon, Gibbs. Ziva’s at my house and I’ve placed her under arrest. That’s right. DiNozzo and I found her hiding out in my basement. I was just about to call Fornell. Yeah, I’m thinking B and E to start. Doesn’t matter that my door wasn’t locked! She was armed. Yes I took her weapons from her, Leon. I’ll let the feds decide if they want to add attempted murder to the charges. No Leon, she didn’t confess to shooting McGee! I told her to get a lawyer. She’s sitting here in my dining room in cuffs. She’s not going anywhere. Okay fine, you just get someone over here to pick her up.”

After the call ended, Gibbs returned to the dining room and tossed his phone on the table.

“It looks like Director Vance wants to have a word or two with you before turning you over to the FBI. He’s sending a couple of agents over to take you into custody. I suggest you cooperate, and don’t even try to do anything stupid. They will have orders to shoot to kill if necessary. Now, before they show up, are you hungry? Can we fix you something to eat?”

Tony prepared an impromptu dinner for their “guest”. He sat a plate with a thick turkey sandwich and a pile of potato chips along with a big glass of water on the table in front of Ziva. Gibbs uncuffed her so she could eat and sat in the chair across from her. Ziva muttered a quiet “thank you” before wolfing down the sandwich. It was obvious that she hadn’t eaten in a while. Tony leaned against the archway to the kitchen in a protective stance.

Half an hour later, Woods and Malloy arrived on Vance’s orders to take Ziva into NCIS custody. Gibbs and Tony both warned them of her Mossad training and her likely ability to slip out of cuffs and somehow produce a weapon. They stood by as Woods patted Ziva down again as a formality. In an abundance of caution, he placed a second set of cuffs on her wrists and Malloy added cuffs to her ankles once she was in the backseat of their sedan.

* * *

Pushing his empty plate away, Tony patted his full belly and stifled a burp with the back of his hand. Both men had been famished by the time they finally got to sit down to eat. Gibbs’ skill at grilling steaks to perfection over an open fire never failed to impress Tony. How he could tell that they were cooked to medium well without cutting into them or spearing them with a meat thermometer was one of life’s great mysteries.

Tony waited until dinner was over to bring up the elephant in the room.

“Okay. I know you think of Ziva like a daughter. You want to protect her; I get that. I also know the two of you have been through some stuff before, like when she killed Ari right here in your house. So I have to ask, what do you really think?” Tony asked.

Gibbs sighed, pushed his plate away, and shrugged.

“I don’t know what to think, about any of it. I do believe she could have set you up, but I’m having a hard time thinking she’d open fire on a crowd. I can promise you, Tony, I will get to the bottom of it. If she is gunning for you, I will take her down.”

Seeing the intense look in Gibbs’ eyes, Tony swallowed hard. Gibbs’ need to protect his team could never be questioned.

Working together to clean up the dinner dishes, Gibbs begged off watching one of Tony’s movies. He needed to clear his head and sanding was the best tonic.

“Tony, we gotta be back to work at 0700, remember?” Gibbs asked with a hint of regret in his voice.

Tony nodded. Any time they had an active case, Saturday and Sunday were just regular days at the office.

“And you’d rather spend a couple of hours in your dusty basement than sitting here watching a movie with me. I get it.”

Gibbs cocked his head, surprised by Tony’s look of dejection.

“Hey, tomorrow night. We can order a pizza and watch a double feature. Okay? I’d, umm, actually like that.”

“You would?” Tony asked around a shy smile.

Gibbs dropped his head and nodded.

Tony didn’t notice the hint of blush creeping up Gibbs’ cheeks. He was too busy trying not to break out in a little happy dance.

They locked eyes stared at each other for a moment as if both men were trying to figure out what the hell was going on. Something was beginning to shift in their relationship. The lines between friends and colleagues to something more were beginning to blur. The question left hanging was, what to do about it?


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I truly appreciate the feedback I have gotten for this story to date. Many of you have given me great ideas as to where to go with it - I’m still sorting a few things out and open to suggestions. I am truly humbled by all of the favorites and follows as well. 
> 
> This chapter was tough because there are a lot of conversations taking place. I hope they make at least a little sense. Dialogue has never been my strong suit, but please bear with me.
> 
> This is a work of fiction written for my enjoyment and that of my readers. It is strictly for entertainment. It is not a law enforcement textbook or an instruction manual. There is a thing called dramatic license which I have employed in the interest of time to avoid writing whole chapters dedicated to describing federal procedure regarding investigations and interviewing voluntary witnesses. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own any recognizable characters or places. I am making no money from this work of fiction and no copyright infringement is intended.
> 
> No beta, so my apologies for any silly typos. This is a bit of a transitional chapter, so be warned.
> 
> Now, back to our story…

* * *

“Agent, um Fornell, right? What are you doin out here? Where’s Kevin? Can I take him home yet?” Jesse asked. He was leaning against the hood of his car finishing the last Camel Light cigarette in the pack.

Fornell walked up to Jesse and waved away a small cloud of smoke.

“I’m afraid not. I appreciate you bringing him in, but you might as well go home. It’s getting late. Kevin’s not under arrest, but we are holding him as a material witness. I’ve already called his mother and told her. She’s fine with it. She’ll be here in the morning with a lawyer. I have a feeling your friend knows something, but he’s not being very helpful. I don’t know if he’s just scared or what, but we really need answers and he’s hedging. Maybe a good night’s sleep will help. Now, is there anything you can tell us about his cousin, this Joey Pats character?”

Jesse took a drag of his cigarette. After a moment he blew out a trail of smoke and shook his head.

“No. To tell you the truth, I don’t know if I’ve ever even met the guy. If I did, it was a long time ago, probably back when we were kids. All I know about him is, he’s in the Army or something. Ummm…”.

“Marines,” Fornell stated.

“Huh?” Jesse asked.

“Sergeant Pantangelo is a Marine.”

“Oh shit! A Marine? Seriously?” Jesse replied. He crushed out his cigarette then frowned at Fornell. “Kevin’s in big trouble, isn’t he?”

Fornell frowned and nodded. He shifted his stance and crossed his arms.

“Yeah, I’m afraid he is. Unless he can give us something that we can use to clear him, right now he’s our only suspect. My gut tells me he’s covering for his cousin, but he won’t talk about him.”

“Um, any chance I can talk to Kevin? Maybe I can get him to open up. I don’t know. Look, I didn’t talk him into coming here just so you could lock him up. Yeah he’s scared, wouldn’t you be?”

“I can probably give you a little time while I make a couple of phone calls. You understand your conversation will be recorded - audio and video. We’re not trying to railroad your friend or set him up, but someone opened fire on a crowd of innocent people the other day and we need to find out who it was. For all we know, the shooter is still out there somewhere. I think Kevin knows something and right now he’s the only lead we’ve got. If he can give us anything that might help lead us in the right direction I will personally follow up on it,” Fornell replied.

* * *

The only other person in the room was a custodian mopping the floor of the public visitor area. He whistled while he did his work and seemed to ignore the pair in the corner.

“Dude! Damn man, if you know something, you gotta talk. I don’t have a lot of time, so listen to me. Tell these guys what you know so you can get out of here,” Jesse implored quietly, leaning over the table in an effort not to be overheard.

Sitting across the cold metal table, Kevin McClelland sat with his shoulders slumped, picking at the commissary cheeseburger and fries Fornell had brought to him. He sipped on a can of Pepsi. He was still in his street clothes and didn’t look much different than he did a few hours earlier, except he had a scared, haunted look in his eyes and new stubble spouting on his cheeks and chin.

“I never should have let you bring me here, Jess,” Kevin replied mournfully. “Joe is gonna kill me if he thinks I ratted him out.”

“Ratted him out? For what? Kev, this shit sounds really serious. Don’t let him drag you into whatever shit he’s involved in.”

Kevin stood and started pacing. He ran a hand through his hair.

“I don’t know anything, man!” he shouted. “I don’t know what they want from me. I didn’t do anything.”

Jesse held his hands up.

“Chill, dude. Okay, look, if you didn’t do anything then tell them! And if you do know something, tell them. You really want to take the fall for this? Kev, a bunch of people got shot, man! I really don’t think these guys think you did it, but they think you might know who did. Thank God no one got killed, but do you really think the feds are just gonna let this go? Just tell them what you know so we can get the hell out of here.”

Kevin dropped back down in his seat with a tired sigh. He munched on a few soggy french fries.

“You don’t understand. If I rat out Joe and he gets busted, my family will never forgive me. You know how fucked up my parents are! As far as they’re concerned, he’s a big shot Marine, a hero, and I’m just a worthless piece of shit who will never amount to anything.”

* * *

With a nod to the burly guard, Ziva’s cuffs were removed. She rubbed at the faint red marks on her wrists. Vance directed her to a chair in front of his desk. His rarely used sidearm was locked and loaded in a top desk drawer, and two heavily armed guards stood on station right outside his office door in an abundance of caution.

It was late and Vance wanted to be with his family. Jackie and the kids were understanding to a point but it was Friday, which meant a large D’Marcos Pizza for dinner and family movie night.

Ziva was grateful that she was being questioned by Vance in his office as opposed to a cold interrogation room. She wished her father could be there to support her and plead to Vance for leniency.

“Director Vance, how can I convince you that my intentions, however you may interpret them, were good? I may not have followed procedures, but I -- I mean we had a chance to take down a drug dealer who was trading drugs for military weapons. Was that such a bad thing? Yes, I may have used Sergeant Pantangelo. I wanted to set him up, not Tony. I wanted to show that I could take down a ring just as well as Tony. He’s always bragging what a great cop he is. I thought maybe, for once, I would get a little credit.”

Vance gaped at Ziva and shook his head.

“You just don’t get it, do you? Yes, the bust could have been a big success. And not just for you or NCIS, but the FBI as well. But you made damn sure we all ended up looking like idiots. Because of how everything went down, Pantangelo somehow made bail, and thanks to you jumping the gun before we could build a solid case he’ll likely skate on the drug, weapons, and conspiracy charges. I can’t begin to tell you what a complete mess this is - for all of us!”

Ziva opened her mouth to protest only to be silenced by Vance’s booming voice. He stood and came around to the front of his desk.

“I’m not done, Officer David! A young cop was killed. Others, including DiNozzo, your own partner for God’s sake, ended up in the hospital with some pretty serious injuries. Now apparently Pantangelo has a cousin who may be involved in the shooting a few days ago. For all we know Pantangelo could be our shooter, but he’s in the wind. The FBI can’t find him. Task Force on the case is pulled pretty damn thin chasing down leads. I don’t like how this whole thing smells! Kind of a coincidence how your other teammate, McGee, got shot. I gotta ask, are you gunning for Gibbs next, or maybe Doctor Mallard or Ms. Sciuto? Seems like everything in this whole mess somehow points back to you. Anything you want to say to me before I give the FBI a call? I’m sure Fornell will have plenty of questions for you as we sort this all out.”

Cowering under the severity of Vance’s accusations, Ziva struggled to find any words to defend herself. All she knew was that now that she had come in, she could stop hiding. She hoped her years of loyal service would count for something. All she really wanted to do was go home, take a long hot shower, eat a decent meal, and sleep for a day or two, but instead she would face up to her actions like a good soldier.

“If it is not too much trouble, I would like to speak with my father. I know it is late, actually early in the morning in Tel Aviv, but he will take my call,” Ziva requested softly.

Vance looked at her through narrowed eyes.

“Eli can’t save you. You weren’t acting on behalf of Mossad. This is on you and you alone. You broke agency rules and God knows how many US laws. You made this all my problem! And my friendship with your father only goes so far. I suggest instead you call a lawyer. Our legal department can’t represent you, of course, but they can recommend someone - a civilian lawyer. I’ll get someone on it,” Vance offered. He picked up the receiver of his desk phone and dialed the legal department. Even at a late hour on Friday evening, one of the agency attorneys would be on hand to deal with emergency requests for search warrants.

“This is Director Vance. I need the number of a defense attorney for one of our agents. That’s need to know and right now you don’t! Fine, email the list to me ASAP. Thank you.”

Vance hung up the phone and turned his attention back to Ziva.

“I’ll have a list of lawyers for you shortly. Now, before I turn you over to the FBI, you wanna tell me where you were Monday? If you have an alibi, this would be a good time to tell me. I can have our people look into it - quietly. Maybe, just maybe, by some miracle, you can get out of this mess. Is there anything you want to say?”

Ziva looked at her hands folded neatly in her lap and shook her head. Vance sighed and dialed the FBI switchboard from memory.

“This is Director Leon Vance, NCIS. Connect me to Agent Tobias Fornell. Yes, I’ll hold.”

Vance hummed along to the banal hold music until his email pinged with the list of attorneys he had requested from the legal department. He printed the list and handed it to Ziva. She peruse it for a few minutes, then at her request, Vance dialed the number for an attorney listed at the Israeli embassy.

* * *

“Open the door,” Fornell ordered the guard, who took out a large ring of keys and did as instructed.

Fornell walked over to where Jesse and Kevin sat in the corner of the visitor area. He was relieved to see Kevin popping the last bite of cheeseburger into his mouth. Jesse snagged a couple of the remaining fries and washed them down with a swig of Mountain Dew.

“I take it you were hungry. Can I get you boys anything else?” Fornell offered with a tight smile.

“Nay, we’re good. I think Kevin has something he wants to tell you, though,” Jesse stated, never breaking eye contact with his defeated friend across the table.

“This true, Kevin? You got something to tell me?,” Fornell asked.

Kevin shifted nervously then cleared his throat. He accepted the bottle of water Fornell handed him and drank down half the contents.

“Thanks. Uh, yeah, about my cousin, Joey …,” Kevin began.

“Before you get started, you sure you want to do this now? It’s getting late, you know. We can wait until your mom gets here with a lawyer in the morning. Or we can call her now and get her permission. It’s up to you. We’ll just have Jesse step out so we can talk, and ...”

Kevin took a deep breath and let it out; deflating like a balloon.

“No. Forget all of that. I want Jess to hear this, too. I want to do this now and then get the hell out of here. I just want to go home.”

Fornell nodded at Kevin and pulled up a chair and took a digital hand-held recorder from his pocket.

“Understood. Then whenever you’re ready, I’m all ears,” Fornell said as he pressed the red “REC” button on the little machine before placing it in the middle of the table.

He sat and listened intently for 45 minutes as Kevin told his story about how he’d seen his cousin Joey with this “cool chick” several times over the last few weeks, and how he played dumb after hearing conversations about guns, drugs, and how everyone was going to make “a killing”.

“‘Just have to take care of a few feds’, he said. Joey didn’t seemed concerned with selling out his Marine brothers and sisters. Said he felt the Marines owed him. ‘They screwed me over and stuck me with shit details. Now they want to send my ass over to fight in the fucking desert. No way man, I’m going make this deal and get the fuck out on my terms’.”

Kevin paused to take another drink of water. He wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his shirt.

Fornell crossed his arms and thought, “Oh man, Gibbs is gonna love this guy!”

“You gotta understand, Agent Fornell, I’ve been an outsider my whole life. Your basic loser, you know. Jess here was pretty much my only friend - he still is I guess. Used to listen to Joey tell stories about the Marines. He made it sound so great, so cool. My shitty parents ate it up like he was some big hero and I wanted to be just like him. He was big and tough, and I thought if I could just survive high school I could go in the military and be cool like him, you know? Maybe then my parents would think I was so worthless. Doubt I could cut it being a Marine, though; I hear it’s really tough. Maybe I’d have better luck in the regular Army or something? I don’t know. Figured I’d learn about the military hanging around him. Picked up a few extra bucks helping him work on the docks, too. Just made some deliveries for him. Then he starts talking shit, and then this crazy chick starts showing up. She wanted him to do her a favor. I bailed whenever she was around. She scared me. She had this huge knife and she always looked pissed off. I don’t know who the hell she was. I think Joey was scared of her too, not that he would ever admit it. All I know is Joey said if he helped her out getting rid of some guy she would keep the cops off his tail.”

“He had quite a racket going down on the docks. Had a whole crew working for him. He never told me any details about what he was doing. I figured it was drugs or something like that. Just said that shit was about to go down, and whatever happened I was supposed to cover for him. Give him an alibi, I guess is what he meant. That’s when I knew I didn’t want any part of whatever he was getting himself into. I stayed away after that and tried to avoid him. I hid out in the woods behind the store after work so he couldn’t find me at home. Maybe I was making a big deal out of nothing, but then he got arrested and I got really scared. Haven’t seen or heard from him since he got out. Jesus, I can’t believe that crazy fucker made bail. I heard what he did to those cops. I didn’t know what else to do so I took off and hid out.”

When Kevin was finished, Fornell leaned back and took a deep breath. That was a lot of information to process. Good thing he brought the recorder with him so it could all be transcribed.

“Okay, Kevin, I’m going to ask you straight out. What can you tell me about the shooting at the WWII Memorial on Monday? You involved in that?”

Kevin sat bolt upright, his eyes wide and wild.

“No! Oh my God, no! I swear I didn’t have anything to do with that. Joey asked me to meet him down there, that’s the only reason I was there. He just said to show up wearing a gray hoodie; he didn’t say why.”

Fornell cocked his head and asked, “Why have you been hiding, Kevin? You haven’t been home in days. Are you hiding from us or your cousin? You think Joey was involved?”

Kevin paused and slouched back down in his seat. Jesse sat back and took in the exchange. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“I don’t know. I’m just scared, man! Jesse called me and told me he’d talked to you. Then I saw the news about the shooting. I freaked out. What would you do if you were me? Huh? You’d take off too. I’m scared that my stupid ass cousin is going to kill me for talking to you. Now I get to worry about him going after my mom, too. Cashed my last paycheck, and with the money I made working for Joey I had enough to get a motel room for a few days. Last time I talked to my mom she said he had called looking for me. I’m worried about her. Can you make sure she’s safe? Send someone to check on her at least?”

Kevin began to panic. His breathing sped up and he began to tremble.

“Oh no … ah, shit! Joey gave me a gun a while back. A rifle. Had a big clip in it. He asked me to hide it for him, so like an idiot I did. Stashed it behind some boxes in the garage. I mean, I like guns and I thought it was pretty cool. I’d never held one like that before. I was going to ask him if I could take it to the shooting range. I have no idea if it’s still there.”

“You have any idea what caliber it was?”

“No. I didn’t look at it too close. I just stuffed it behind the boxes and I haven’t seen it since.”

Fornell pulled out his phone and called the FBI’s Shooting Task Force.

“This is Fornell. I just got some new information. We need a search warrant - now! We have a possible lead on a gun that may have been used in the shooting. It may be at the home of a witness I just spoke with, Kevin McClelland. You should have the address. We’re looking for a rifle hidden behind some boxes in the garage. Get on it and get back to me ASAP. Yeah, and tell no one. I don’t want the media finding out until we have something solid. While you wait for the warrant, I need you to go to that address right now and do a welfare check on Mrs. McClelland. It’s her house. I want a detail keeping an eye on that house. I want to know everyone who so much as drops by for tea, especially her nephew. That would be Joe Pantangelo. Yeah, the guy we arrested on the docks.”

When he was finished, Fornell gave his cell phone to Kevin.

“Call your mom and tell her you’ll be home soon. You can fill her in when you get there, but let her know there will be an unmarked car with federal agents outside your house. If your cousin shows up, he won’t get past them. I promise. Jesse, you might want to think about staying there, at least tonight.”

Jesse nodded in agreement.

That small reassurance was all Kevin needed. He dialed the phone.

“Hey Mom …”.

* * *

Despite the excitement of Friday evening, Gibbs and Tony both slept well; better than they had since the whole Ziva debacle started. Knowing that she was no longer an imminent threat they were able to relax for the first time in over a week. Dressed casually and fortified with a hearty breakfast from Gibbs’ favorite diner, the two men strolled into the bullpen to prepare for what they hoped would be a productive day.

Gibbs immediately booted up his computer then pulled out his phone and dialed Fornell’s cell number. To hell with the early hour; since Fornell hadn’t bothered calling him back last night Gibbs thought it was only fair to call him at the crack of dawn. He wanted answers and he was not in any mood to be kept waiting for them.

Tony smiled and snorted at regular intervals while Gibbs, as promised, ripped Fornell “a new one” for not calling him back as soon as he was finished interviewing Kevin McClelland.

He waved off nervous inquiring looks from Woods and Malloy, who were obviously not accustomed to the normal terse back and forth between Gibbs and Fornell. He could only imagine the defense Fornell was trying to put forth.

“If only this was on speakerphone,” he thought.

Tony laughed as the pair gaped at Gibbs, who slammed desk drawers, threw pens around on his desk, and yelled into his phone.

“Don’t worry, fellas. This is perfectly normal; they talk to each other like this all the time. Actually, I’d say that under the circumstances, this could be considered one of their more civil conversations,” Tony reported to his stunned teammates.

After an impromptu campfire to compare notes, Gibbs assigned Woods and Malloy to follow up on their phone calls to Lieutenant Martell’s friends and coworkers, and tasked Tony with tracking down her ex.

From their disheveled appearance, Woods and Malloy had worked through the night. The suits they had worn the day before were wrinkled. Both men looked like they could use a shave and about a gallon or two of strong coffee.

Tony and Gibbs had both been surprised when Woods and Malloy showed up at Casa Gibbs to take Ziva into custody the night before.

“What the hell are you two doing here?” Gibbs asked. “I sent you home hours ago.”

Malloy replied, “We were just finishing up and were about to leave when Director Vance showed up. He told us to get over here, so here we are.”

Tony looked at Gibbs and shrugged.

“I told them to forget having any weekends off working for you,” Tony stated before turning his attention back to his temporary teammates. “Guys, next time don’t hang around the office. When Gibbs says leave, get the hell out while you can.”

Gibbs hadn’t been too surprised to see Woods and Malloy hard at work when he and Tony arrived at 0645. As far as he was concerned, being on time meant you were late.

“You guys been here all night?” Tony asked.

Woods yawned.

“Yeah, after Vance got done with Agent David, we had to wait for the feds to show up and take her into custody. It was late by then so we just stayed and started comparing notes and cataloging all of this forensic stuff Abby gave us. I have a call in to the FBI lab. Hoping to see if we can cross-match any of our DNA and ballistics results with what they have. Just waiting to hear back.”

Gibbs retrieved a pack of disposable razors and a can of shaving cream from his bottom desk drawer then walked over and placed them in the middle of McGee’s desk in front of Malloy.

“You two, showers now. Shave and get cleaned up and change into clean clothes if you have them. You got 30 minutes then I want your asses back here. We got work to do,” Gibbs barked. “DiNozzo, I’m gonna go see if Ducky is here yet. He said he’d be in this morning, and we need his final autopsy report.”

Tony nodded. Not even the aged, learned doctor got a reprieve from early weekends during an active case. Never mind that Ducky and Palmer also had several other pending cases.

Tony then turned his attention to a confused-looking Malloy and pointed to the bottom drawer of the file cabinet behind his desk.

“If you guys need, I’ve got a few clean shirts and socks and stuff in here you can borrow. You might want to keep a couple of changes of clothes or two on hand. During a case, you never know how long we might be here. Now, you better get going. If Gibbs said 30 minutes, he means 30 minutes. You’re down to 28 now, so scoot.”

He was about to go on a coffee run when his desk phone rang. The called ID display read “McGee, Agent Timothy”.

Tony snatched up the receiver.

“Hey Probie! How ‘ya feeling? Still got you on the good stuff?” Tony asked with an overabundance of early morning cheer.

They exchanged pleasantries for a few minutes, then McGee gave a cursory report of his findings about Lieutenant Martell’s ex. He protested that it would be much easier to go over everything in person, but since he was barely ambulatory and at Abby’s mercy could they please come visit him?

“You needing a break, McGee? Nurse Abby driving you nuts?

“Yes, she is. Being over-protective as usual. You know I love her, but I can’t take it anymore. Um, Tony ... can I ask you something?”

“Sure, McGoo.”

“We’ve been talking, and I vaguely remember Abby saying something about there being a stranger in my hospital room.”

“Yeah, Gibbs yelled at her the next day for leaving you alone without your security detail. Made her cry; it wasn’t pretty. Come to think of it, Joe may have cried a little too. You remembering something now, McGee?” Tony asked.

“Actually, yeah, I think so. I know I was drugged to the gills and pretty much out of it, but I’m pretty sure I know who it was.”

Tony’s gut clenched.

“Okay … who was it?”

McGee takes a deep breath before saying, “Ziva.”

“Did she say or do anything? What else can you tell me?”

“Not that I remember. I think she was just standing there. Tony, you don’t sound surprised,” McGee questioned.

Tony sighed. He didn’t want to stress McGee out by informing him of Ziva’s arrest.

“I’m not. Look McGee, it could have been Ziva. We don’t know. There’s some weird shit going on right now with her. There’s nothing definite right now and I don’t want you to get worked up about it. We’ve just got a big tangle of things and we need to, you know, untangle it.”

Tony didn’t press, but he got McGee to recall a few more details about his visitor. McGee’s description sounded eerily familiar - dark hair wearing a hoodie. Oh boy!

* * *

Gibbs comes upstairs with Ducky’s final autopsy report in hand, to find Tony staring off into space. Tony flinches when Gibbs’ touches his shoulder.

“Hey, you okay?”

Tony nods.

“Uh yeah, just thinking.”

“Come on, DiNozzo. Let’s go. I need coffee and you look like you could use a break and get some fresh air. You guys want anything?” Gibbs asked freshly showered Woods and Malloy, who both had their noses buried in stacks of witness statements.

“Oh, uh no thanks, Boss,” they answered in unison, saluting with mugs of undrinkable breakroom coffee.

It was quiet on the grounds with only essential domestic personnel and overseas analysts on hand. It was a good thing Team Gibbs was on hand since they were on-call anyway. On a normal week day, the Navy Yard would be teeming with people getting in a bit of exercise walking around the vast hilly grounds or just enjoying the sunny summer days.

As they approached the coffee kiosk, Gibbs asked, “What’s going on, Tony? Talk to me.”

Tony sighed.

“I just got off the phone with McGee. He called with some info he dug up on Lieutenant Martell’s ex. He wants us to come over. He says he’s got a bunch of stuff to show us and he printed off a bunch of records. I think he really just needs a break from Abby. You know how she is when she gets all Mother Hen.”

Gibbs nodded his understanding.

“Oh yeah, I know how she gets.”

“So, uh Gibbs, McGee thinks he saw the person who snuck into his hospital room that night, and you’re not gonna like it.”

“Let me guess, Ziva?”

“Yup. He said she didn’t say anything, not that he could remember anyway. He just remembers opening his eyes for a second or two and seeing her looking down at him. He said she was wearing a hoodie. Gibbs, everyone who described the possible shooter said the person had dark hair and was wearing a hoodie. It’s July. How many people wear hoodies in the middle of summer?”

“There’s something else. What is it?” Gibbs queried.

At Gibbs’ concerned look, Tony nodded and said, “Something Woods said about Lieutenant Martell’s ex. He was a Marine, too. Got kicked out. I have no idea why, but I bet McGee does. Guess where the ex works now. That’s right, he’s a dock worker. A big, burly dock worker. I don’t recall if Woods mentioned him working specifically around Anacostia, though. We need to find out if he knew Pantagelo. Maybe they served together? Maybe he gave Pantagelo and his crew access to that warehouse we were supposed to raid? I don’t have a good feeling about this, Gibbs. I really want to know what McGee found.”

That got Gibbs’ attention. Tony’s gut was usually as reliable as his. By legal means or otherwise, no one could get a person’s records - bank, medical, work history, criminal, military - faster than Tim McGee. Any connection between Martell’s ex and Pantangelo would be a very convenient coincidence indeed.

* * *

Abby answered the door looking freshly showered. Her damp dark hair hung over her shoulders. She looked right at home in McGee’s small, tidy apartment. She favored both Gibbs and Tony with a peck on the cheek as she waved them inside.

McGee was propped up with a couple of extra fluffy pillows on his couch. He looked much better than he did just a couple of days ago. He was dressed in his own pajamas and robe, and had been lovingly tucked in with a soft blanket. His color was good and he didn’t appear to be in any pain.

“Hey McGee! How you doin’ buddy?” Tony asked. “You’re looking good, man.”

“McGee,” Gibbs said in lieu of a more cheerful greeting.

“Hey Boss, Tony. Yeah, I’m doing good. Thanks for stopping by. I got a bunch of stuff for you. Not sure what any of it means, but I figure you will. Um, Abby, would you mind running to the store to get some more of that stuff for my stitches so they don’t itch?”

Abby skipped over and dropped a kiss in McGee’s hair.

“Sure. Can I get you anything else? More tea? You sure you’ll be okay while I’m gone?”

McGee smiled but shook his head. If he had to drink anymore green tea with rose hips he was going to scream.

“I’ll be fine. Tony can help me if I need to pee and Gibbs and Joe are here, too, so no worries. Make sure you take Darren with you. I mean it, Abby,” McGee scolded. “Yeah, I know how you tried to lose him yesterday.”

At three scolding looks, Abby deflated for a brief moment then drew a cross across her heart.

“Okay, I promise. See you later Bossman, Tony,” Abby chirped on her way out the door.

“Huh? I gotta help you pee?”

McGee rolled his eyes.

“Never mind, DiNozzo. You want to know what I found out or not?”

Gibbs pulled over a couple of chairs. He and Tony sat and sipped the coffees they picked up on the way over while McGee presented his findings. The only thing missing for this sitrep was a big plasma and the clicker button. They managed to review the documents McGee found on his laptop.

“Okay, here’s what I dug up on Johnny Stewart - Lieutenant Martell’s ex. Major disciplinary problems in high school and a couple of juvenile petty theft arrests. His high school guidance counselor thought the military would be good for him. Apparently a juvie judge did too. Same issues with discipline in the Corps. He never could qualify for promotion. He barely made it out of Basic. Served briefly at Marine Corps Air Station Cherry Point, North Carolina, where he worked in the Motor Pool with a, get this, Corporal Joseph Pantagelo. He was basically a transport support mechanic. He wanted to work on aircraft, but couldn’t get certified and he never got the chance. Discharged three years ago. He was suspected of stealing tools and parts, but they never brought formal charges. Someone must have taken pity on him, because he was given a general discharge. Stewart has been picking up jobs as a dock worker and delivery driver since he got out - most of them around Anacostia.”

Seeing a look pass between Tony and Gibbs, McGee set his laptop to the side and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Okay, what aren’t you telling me? Are the raid and murder of Lieutenant Martell related? What about the shooting? Okay, other than serving together for a while is this Stewart guy somehow involved with Pantangelo? Was it to cover up Martell’s murder? And where the hell does Ziva fit in all of this?”

Tony looked around the room. Gibbs looked McGee in the eye.

“We don’t know yet. What else you got, McGee? We need to find out where this Stewart guy is and see if he has an alibi for Lieutenant Martell’s murder. You got anything else on Pantangelo?” Gibbs asked.

McGee threw off the blanket then carefully sat up and faced Gibbs and Tony.

“No! Look I know something is going on. Come on, I think I deserve to know. Ziva’s involved in all of this somehow, isn’t she? Dammit Tony, what’s going on?” McGee demanded.

Getting a nod from Gibbs, Tony held his hand up.

“Okay McGee, calm down. Relax. Like I said, we don’t have anything definite yet, but we did have a visit from Ziva yesterday, well, more like last night. We’re not sure how she fits in with all of this, but we had to arrest her. She broke in to Gibbs’ house and was hiding out in the basement. We turned her over to Vance and he turned her over to the FBI for questioning. We haven’t gotten an update yet. Not sure where she’s gonna end up. As for Stewart and Pantangelo working together, who knows. If there is a connection to Anacostia and the shooting, we have to find it.”

Gibbs took that as his cue, so he unclipped his phone from his belt and called Vance to get an update on Ziva.

Tony continued. “Remember what you told me on the phone about her being in your hospital room? Well, your description fits those we’ve gotten from people who may have seen the shooter running from the scene Monday.”

McGee gaped at Tony. He simply could not believe what he was hearing.

“Wait, wait! Are you telling me Ziva could be the one who shot me … and all the others? Why? It doesn’t make sense,” McGee stammered.

Tony shook his head and shrugged.

“Or she knows who did? Like I said, we don’t know everything yet. It’s not our case, and Fornell’s not exactly keeping us updated. It’s a mess trying to figure out which pieces of the puzzle go where.”

Finished with his brief exchange with Vance, Gibbs chimed in and filled McGee in on recent developments. He wanted to make sure they were all working with the same facts and were on the same page. He told him about their chat with Ziva and how they were trying to make sense of it all.

“McGee, we don’t know if Ziva is involved or not. Do I think she pulled the trigger and opened fire on the crowd? I doubt it. Too sloppy for someone with her background and training. Could she have been working with Pantangelo? Could that be why his cousin is currently being questioned? Could be. We’re just not sure. Our job is to find Lt. Martell’s killer. The FBI is working on the shooting. Anything you remember from that day would be helpful. We’ve been ordered to stay out of it, but any information we can give the feds will help,” Gibbs reported.

Tony and McGee grinned knowingly at each other. Like Gibbs had any intention of staying out of it!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Professionally things are looking up as the team closes in on a suspect. Personally? With our heroes you just never know!

Abby returned from running her errands just as Tony and Gibbs were about to leave. She burst through the door with her arms loaded down with shopping bags.

"Oh, hey Abs!" Tony greeted cheerfully, jumping out of the way in the nick of time to avoid being crushed between the door and the wall.

"Oh, thanks Hun," she crooned in her deep, sultry voice as she kicked the door shut.

Gibbs relieved Abby of her parcels and deposited them on the breakfast bar in the kitchen while Tony fled to the relative safety of McGee's tiny living room. Floor to ceiling shelves filled with books, collectable record albums covering almost all genres of music, and all manner of computer and electronic components took up a lot of space in the small one-bedroom apartment. Along with his large gaming desk, smaller writing desk, and a few basic pieces of furniture for seating, there wasn't much room to move around.

"McGee, you gotta get a bigger place, man! This place is dangerous," Tony stated from where he sat perched on the arm of McGee's couch. "How do you not get claustrophobic with all of this stuff and no room? I know a couple of pretty nice realtors if you want. They could find you a new place."

McGee nodded then frowned quizzically at the barely perceptible growl he heard coming from the kitchen.

"Sweet! I'll get their numbers for you," Tony said with a smile.

Finding a nicer, bigger place had been on his "To Do" list for a while, but with the team's caseload, unpredictable hours, and his current recovery, when would he ever have time to even look for one? It would be nice to let a realtor do the searching for him, as long as she wasn't one of Tony's one-night stands who might hold a grudge!

Unburdened of her parcels, Abby bound over to check on her charge and deliver the foot-long Subway sandwich and soft drink she had picked up for him. As a ravenous McGee unwrapped his sandwich, Abby opened several pill bottles situated on the end table to give him his scheduled dose of medication. McGee took the pills without argument then smiled up at Abby. Satisfied that her patient seemed to be doing well, she dropped a kiss on top of his head.

Tony cocked his head and placed a hand over his heart.

"Awww!"

McGee glared at him in response.

"Thanks, Abby. Shut up, Tony! She's been taking good care of me."

Gibbs returned to the living room and commented, "Uh huh. Come on, DiNozzo. Let's leave these two to … whatever. We got work to do."

Gibbs picked up a thick file from McGee's desk containing copies of all of the documents he had produced and forcefully shoved it into Tony's hands. Unprepared, Tony had to clasp the folder tightly against his chest to keep the papers inside the folder from spilling onto the floor.

Tony and McGee traded shrugs at Gibbs' sudden surly mood.

"Good start, McGee. If you're up to it, keep digging. I want to know  _ everything  _ there is to know about Johnny Stewart. Go back to grade school if you have to. Need it yesterday."

"You got it, Boss," McGee replied with a hint of a smile. "Hey, and promise you'll keep me updated about this whole  _ Ziva _ situation?"

Tony and Gibbs traded a look and nodded at McGee in unison then headed for the door.

Abby put her hands on her hips and scowled.

"Um, wait! Excuse me, but what 'Ziva situation'?" she asked.

"I'll explain later," McGee replied. He waved at his departing guests.

"See you later Boss, Tony."

Gibbs stopped to give Abby a peck on the cheek.

"Need you to get back to work, Abs. McGee's fine. Joe's right outside and we're only a phone call away. We need your reports if we're gonna get to the bottom of this and build a solid case, and we can't do that without you. Got it?"

Abby snapped off a sloppy salute.

"Got it, Bossman! First thing tomorrow? I promise."

"No … today …  _ now _ ," Gibbs replied, leaving no room for argument.

Gibbs opened the door and shoved Tony out into the hall.

"Move it, DiNozzo," he barked.

* * *

Pulling out of the parking lot at McGee's place, Gibbs turned left in the direction of his house instead of right to go back to NCIS. Tony checked his watch, which read 1410 hours.

"Uh Boss, the Navy Yard is the other way," Tony stated, stabbing his thumb to the right.

"I know that, DiNozzo! McGee's gonna keep pinning down details about Stewart and Abby is going to run her tests, at least she better be. We don't have enough to arrest Stewart yet, so I don't think there's any more we can do today. As soon as we get something solid, we'll bring him in."

A moment of awkward silence later, Gibbs' tone softened, "In the meantime, I just want to get you home, Tony. Call Woods and Malloy, and tell them we're done for the day. Back first thing Monday unless something breaks."

Tony pulled out his phone and dialed Woods, who had taken up temporary residence at Ziva's desk. He was confused by Gibbs' ever-changing mood. One minute he's snapping at him and calling him by his last name. Then, he softens and sounds like he actually cares and calls him by his first name.

Tony steals covert looks at Gibbs while waiting for the call to connect.

"Yeah Woods; it's DiNozzo. Hey, Gibbs says to call it a day. We got a lot of background info from McGee and he's gonna keep digging. Abby's on her way in to do whatever it is she does. As far as we know Ziva is still in custody and the feds have a team keeping eyes on Pantangelo. We don't have enough to bring in Lieutenant Martell's ex in yet, but if we get something solid we'll call 'ya, so be reachable and watch your sixes. Yeah, unless you hear from us sooner, back at 0800 on Monday. Scratch that, 0700. Nah, he's fine. Feeling better everyday, but I'll tell McGee you send your regards. Hey, I wasn't kidding … leave  _ now  _ before Vance shows up and finds a reason to keep you there  _ all  _ weekend. Alrighty then. See you Monday."

After ending the call, Tony grinned at Gibbs but said nothing. After a few moments, Gibbs acknowledged him and saw that familiar brilliant smile that reached up to his twinkling eyes.

"What?" Gibbs barked.

"Nuthin. Just … you might want to watch what you say," Tony muttered around a smirk.

At Gibbs' furrowed brow, he continued.

"Last night - when we were getting off the elevator at work. Do you have  _ any  _ idea what you said to me? Gibbs, we may actually have a bunch of our colleagues thinking there is something hinky going on between us."

Tony rolled his eyes at his stoic boss; he clearly wasn't getting through. He turned in his seat so he was facing Gibbs.

"You don't remember, do you? Gibbs, you pushed me back into the corner of the elevator, held me there, and requested, in front of at least a dozen of our co-workers, and I quote, "would you mind if we stay at my place this weekend?" Did you  _ not  _ see all of their jaws hit the floor? And just now, you said you wanted to get me home. Home, Gibbs. Good thing we weren't in the middle of the bullpen or at a crime scene for that little announcement. Can you imagine the scandal that would cause?"

Gibbs was at a complete loss for words.

Tony burst out laughing.

"Wait, hey, oh my God … are you … blushing? You so totally are!"

"Shut it, DiNozzo!"

* * *

It was a typical Saturday night at Metro Central Booking.

"I want my lawyer," the disheveled inebriated loudmouth slurred as he was fingerprinted and stood for his mugshot. Angry-looking bruises and welts were beginning to stand out in stark relief along his jawline. His left eye was heavily bruised and nearly swollen shut, and there were scratches on his stubbly cheeks.

The Metro intake officers, used to such abuse from people brought in to be processed for 'drunk and disorderly', paid him no mind. The loudmouth had been treated at the scene of a bar brawl by EMTs who responded to a 911 call. He refused transport to the hospital for further treatment, much to the relief of the EMTs who had spent a good half an hour being verbally abused.

"You can call your lawyer when we're done here," one of the officers announced as he snapped a series of photos. "Turn to the left."

"Who is this guy?" the second officer asked.

"I dunno, but according to an expired driver's license taken off of him, his name is Joseph G. Pantangelo. Does that name sound familiar to you?"

"Hey, wait! Isn't this the guy who killed Mike? Remember, on the docks that night? We were responding to a call from the feds and everything went to hell?"

"Oh yeah. I thought the name sounded familiar. What a fucking mess that was. I just remember some seriously pissed off feds. I think one of them was a Navy cop, too. How the hell is this fool out walking around? He killed a cop for Christ's sake!"

"I don't know. Made bail somehow. Must have had a hell of a lawyer or he knows someone pretty high up. Hey, you remember the name of that FBI agent we talked to? I think we should give him a call and let him know about this."

The pair looked up the open case from the blotter from the night of the raid on the computer. Pantangelo loudly grumbled his displeasure at being ignored, so the two officers asked a pair of guards to kindly escort their guest to a holding cell.

"Ah, here it is … Fornell, FBI. Says here he's over at the Hoover Building. I'll give him a call."

* * *

Popcorn popped and two cold bottles of beer standing by, Tony was about to press "Play" on the remote when Gibbs' cell phone rang. Tony watched the expressions change on Gibbs' face as he listened intently to the caller.

"Yeah, Gibbs. What? You're kidding. Just now?"

Gibbs shot a stunned look at Tony, who mouthed, "What?" Gibbs mouthed back, "Fornell," then held up a finger while Fornell briefed him on "the damndest call I just got from Metro".

Several minutes later, Gibbs snapped his phone shut and tossed it on the coffee table. He picked up one of the bottles of beer and took a long pull.

"Dammit, Gibbs, what?" Tony barked impatiently.

Gibbs looked at Tony and shook his head.

"You are  _ not  _ gonna believe this. Pantangelo just got arrested. He's being booked by Metro. Apparently he got drunk and instigated a big bar fight."

Tony's gape morphed into a grin.

"Well thank God! So he's in jail and Ziva's locked up, far as we know. Can't think of any other bad guys right now. Looks like we dodged a bullet, Boss, literally. Now maybe things can get back to normal. Fornell can deal with those two and we can focus on solving our case. And, now you won't have to be stuck babysitting  _ me  _ anymore."

Tony pressed "Play" and the opening credits of "Ghostbusters" began to play. He thought it would be a good second feature after the intensity and blood and guts of "Platoon". Tony settled in and started munching on popcorn. It was several minutes before he noticed Gibbs frowning and looking down at his hands. He pressed "Pause".

"Hey, Gibbs, you okay? That call from Fornell was  _ good  _ news, right? I mean, the threat to me, to you, to all of us, is over now, right?"

"Yeah, I guess. Um, if it's okay with you, I'm gonna skip the second movie. I got stuff I gotta do - downstairs," Gibbs mumbled.

He went to stand, only to have Tony grab onto his hand and pull him back down next to him on the couch.

"Oh no you don't! You promised. Double feature, remember? What's going on? Did I do something? Talk to me. Why are you running away?" Tony demanded.

"Me? You think  _ I'm  _ running away. You're the one who just said you don't need me around anymore."

"When the hell did I say that?"

"Just now!"

"Oh my God! Now I know why your exes all say they could never talk to you. You don't listen! Gibbs, I never said I  _ wanted  _ to leave. I said you don't have to babysit me anymore. That means you don't have to drop everything and put your life on hold and play bodyguard. I'm fine, you're fine, and the bad guys, that we know of, are all locked up."

"So why are you still sitting here? You're free Tony; you can leave any time. Nothing keeping you here. It's Saturday night. It's not too late for you to call up one of your lady friends or go out and pick up a hot date at one of those clubs you like so much."

Tony let out an exasperated sigh.

"You truly are infuriating and clueless, you know that? I'm here because I  _ want  _ to be here. I always want to be here, in case you haven't been paying attention. You've been to my condo. Pretty nice place, isn't it? The whole damn building is pretty nice, right? You really think everything keeps breaking down? I made a lot of that stuff up hoping you'd let me stay here. I like being here, with you. Or at my place, with you. Now, you promised me a double feature tonight and I'm gonna hold you to it. What happens after that is entirely up to you."

Gibbs could only blink in disbelief.

"After that? What the hell does that mean?"

Tony turned his head and looked Gibbs dead in the eye.

"It means whatever you want it to mean. You're here and I'm here. Make of that what you will and just go with it. Now, can we watch the movie and … whatever already?"

Tony pressed "Play" on the remote and settled back in.

Gibbs sat stock still with his arm resting on the back of the couch as Tony scooted over dangerously close to him. All that was missing was Tony resting his head on his shoulder like Shannon did when they went to the movies. Mere inches apart, Gibbs could feel the heat radiating off of Tony.

Memories of youthful, innocent days flooded into Gibbs' mind. Light petting and stealing kisses under the cover of darkness in the theater balcony; the movie itself was just an excuse for a little hormone-driven fooling around. In the small dusty town of Stillwater, Pennsylvania, there wasn't much else to do.

Wooing was so much simpler back then. Gibbs had mastered the art over the years, his multiple marriages being testament to that. He was great at catching the attention of any woman he set his sights on, but he was a dismal failure at keeping them. But now, sitting on his couch with his much younger, gorgeous, sexy,  _ male  _ subordinate dangerously close to him, Gibbs was at a loss what to do with his hands or his libidinous thoughts

" _ Is DiNozzo trying to … snuggle? Is he really offering what I think he's offering?" _ Gibbs thought while Tony munched on a handful of popcorn.

"This okay?" Tony asked, never taking his eyes off the screen.

"Um, sure," Gibbs stammered in reply.

"Good. Want some popcorn?" Tony offered as if curling up to Gibbs was the most natural thing in the world.

He didn't usually go for mindless comedies, but Gibbs enjoyed "Ghostbusters" more than he thought he would. Being able to relax and laugh was a welcome respite after weeks of stress and hypervigilance. They had managed to make it through the movie without potentially embarrassing incident or any first date-like awkwardness, but Gibbs began to fidget as the closing credits rolled. Tony, on the other hand, sprang up from the couch and took the empty popcorn bowl and beer bottles into the kitchen. Gibbs was at a complete loss trying to figure out how Tony could act like they hadn't just spent the evening practically snuggled up together on his couch!

Tony returned a few minutes later to find Gibbs standing in the middle of the living room staring down at his feet. He slowly stepped closer. Outside of work, reading Gibbs and his moods was one skill Tony lacked. Even after years of careful study, Leroy Jethro Gibbs was an enigma. Tony lightly tapped Gibbs on the shoulder and jumped back when he flinched.

"Whoa! Gibbs, are you okay? Tony inquired, his voice soft and laced with concern.

Gibbs shook his head slowly.

"I really don't know," he replied.

He finally looked up and met Tony's concerned gaze.

"What's going on here?" Gibbs asked, throwing his hands up in frustration.

Tony smiled almost shyly, and replied, "That's up to you. I've been sending out signals for ages, Gibbs; practically since I started working for you. I figured you weren't interested, but tonight I thought I'd just throw it out there. Seemed like as good a time as any. I know what you're gonna say; we're both guys, and I'm not some beautiful little red-head. You seem to have a preference for those - the female variety."

Gibbs cracked a hint of a smile and took a step closer to Tony.

"And that's a problem."

"Which part?"

"The part about you working for me," Gibbs stated in a deep register that Tony found sexy.

Tony cocked his head and quirked an eyebrow.

"And the rest of it? Me being a tall male brunette instead of a petite little red-headed female? Is  _ that  _ a problem, too?"

Gibbs reached up and cupped Tony face in his hands, shook his head, and muttered softly, "No. That part is definitely  _ not  _ a problem."

He then punctuated his declaration with a chaste kiss. When they broke apart, both a bit bashful, Gibbs held Tony's gaze for a moment then winked.

Unprepared for anything resembling a heartfelt declaration, Tony fell back on his default setting and favored Gibbs with a dazzling smile.

Tony took a step back and for the first time in years found himself at a loss what to do. Gibbs wasn't like any of his prior conquests; in fact, he wasn't a conquest at all. Tony never had a problem sweeping anyone he picked up or dated off their feet, but Gibbs was in a whole different league, by himself. Until this very moment, Gibbs had been the oft dreamed about, unattainable fantasy. Now, was he about to become a fantasy come true?

"Problem, Tony?" Gibbs asked.

"No, just, uh, wow Gibbs. I, uh, wasn't expecting  _ that _ , you know," Tony stammered.

Gibbs cracked a half smile and stepped right back into Tony's personal space.

"What? You were expecting me to throw you over the back of the couch or something?"

"Let's go with or something," Tony answered with a chuckle.

"I'm not a mind reader, DiNozzo. You're gonna have to tell me what you want," Gibbs stated.

Tony rested his forearms on Gibbs' shoulders, and not meeting any resistance said, "Well, that depends on what I can have. Let's chalk it up to the stress and craziness of the last few weeks, but here it goes. I want  _ you _ , Gibbs. There, I said it. Whenever, wherever, and however. That's the part that's up to you."

Gibbs eyebrows shot up in response.

Serious green eyes bored into blue and found no judgment.

Gibbs stepped back and Tony's arms fell to his sides.

"Who are you dating now? Anyone I know? Any old flames back in town I should know about, or are you still just out chasing anything in a skirt that walks by?" Gibbs asked flatly. "I don't play games and I don't want to have to compete with anyone else."

"What? No. I'm not dating  _ anyone _ , I swear. Gibbs, I haven't dated anyone in months. Not interested in random hookups or clubbing, or any of that crap anymore. It's old, it's boring. Besides, it's not like I have weekends off or time to date even if I wanted to. I want something real, something that might actually have a chance of lasting."

Gibbs nodded. It was time to get to the heart of the matter.

"Your dates haven't all been with women either," Gibbs stated.

He knew he hit the mark when Tony could no longer look at him.

"It's okay; you've hidden it well. I obviously don't have a problem with it, and all things considered it's probably a good thing I know. Tony, I don't care who you've been with in the past, male or female, as long as they stay there - in the past. I'm not seeing anyone. Gave up dating a long time ago. If you ask me, women are too much damn work and men are too much of a complication," he said.

Tony stood gobsmacked.

Gibbs did something he rarely did; he threw his head back and laughed.

"Yeah, there have been a few men thrown in over the years. Mostly when I was younger. Let's just say, when you're deployed or in a foxhole in the desert you aren't too picky. Sometimes you just get lonely, scared and lonely, and any warm body will do."

Tony blinked but said nothing. Well, so much for his world view!

"Blew your mind, did I?"

Tony nodded.

"Yeah, you could say that. So, what do we do now? I don't know about you, but I have a lot to process. I'm sure you understand. Whatever may be kicking off here, Gibbs, I don't want anything to screw it up. I mean, I'm up for going out for dinner or to a movie and maybe making out a little bit, but anything that involves us getting naked should probably wait a little while, don'tcha think?" Tony replied.

"I couldn't agree more. Seems kind of out of character for you, but you're right. I'm in no hurry, and we do have a lot of things to consider. Work, for one. The team. That could be a whole big mess. Not sure how anyone would react. And, I don't think we should do  _ anything  _ until we close this Martell case. The last thing we need during a case is to be distracted, okay?"

Tony nodded. He didn't know whether to shake Gibbs' hand or kiss him. Luckily, Gibbs decided for him and pecked him on the lips.

"Okay, you know what, it's late. I say we turn in and get a good night's sleep, and then we will have all day tomorrow, hopefully, to talk and figure things out. I'm in, but we  _ both  _ need to be damn sure about this. Both of our careers could be on the line. And when I say I'm in, I mean  _ all  _ in. I don't know what you want out of this, whatever  _ this  _ ends up being, but I don't want some meaningless fling. There's too much at stake, and it's not my style. Just fucking around and playing the field has never been my thing. Now, you have a decision to make. You want to crash down here on the couch, or with me upstairs -  _ just  _ to sleep?"

Tony beamed again.

"Well that's a no-brainer! With you, of course," Tony replied with waggling eyebrows. "And I promise I'll be good and keep my hands to myself."

Gibbs rolled his eyes as Tony swiped a cross over his own heart. He turned off the TV and the lights, and followed Tony up the stairs.

Tony stopped halfway up and turned to lean against the wall.

"Hey Gibbs?"

"Yeah?"

"How did you know? About me dating men?"

Gibbs sighed.

"Let's just say that secret men's club by your place ain't so secret. Saw you there a few years ago. I got dragged in there, by a friend who wanted to join. I'm not saying who. Thought you'd freak out if you saw me, so I had one quick drink at the bar and left - alone. You, as I recall, were kind of busy."

Tony blushed then turned and continued up the stairs. Nothing more was said.

* * *

Sunday they talked. It was awkward, and at times painful, but necessary. Between calls from McGee, Abby, Ducky and anyone else checking in or waiting for instructions, they reached an agreement that surprised them both. They would give dating a try. No pressure, with the proviso that it be kept just between them for now. New relationships were difficult enough without dragging anyone else and their unsolicited opinions into it.

As soon as the Martell case wrapped up, they would be free to explore a relationship - on their terms. Tony's mind was continuously blown by Gibbs seeming to know exactly what he was thinking. Gibbs couldn't believe that Tony wanted him when he could have his choice of someone much younger. Tony told him to stop being silly, and Gibbs responded to that with a lingering kiss. They shared concerns over who would and would not be supportive. Tony counted their friends off on his fingers.

"Well, Abby will be totally cool about it. I doubt she'd even be surprised. You know her; I'm sure she has fantasies about us. Palmer won't say anything because he's too afraid of you. I, personally, don't give a damn what Vance thinks - or Ziva for that matter, not that she matters at all. McGee might freak out for a week or two, but I'm not too worried. Might be fun to watch the Probie's head explode when we tell him, though! That just leaves Ducky and probably Fornell." Tony shrugged.

Gibbs snorted.

"I wouldn't worry too much about Ducky. He and Abby must talk a lot, because sometimes I think  _ he  _ thinks we already are together. Leave Fornell to me. I don't want to advertise it to the whole damn building, but if people find out, they find out. I don't really care. I'll deal with Vance and any crap he throws in the way. He'll make idle threats and demands. I'll tell him to deal with it and that will be that," Gibbs replied. "It's just about you and me, okay? No one has to know anything until we are both ready to tell them. I do think we need to keep work separate from our private lives, if we can."

To avoid temptation, Gibbs drove Tony home. To Tony's amusement, Gibbs once again cleared his apartment then left with strict instructions for him to "bolt the damn door, get some sleep", and, "I better see your ass at your desk tomorrow morning,  _ working _ , no later than 0800".

"Copy that," Tony replied with a wink.

* * *

Tony breezed into the bullpen at 0730 Monday morning and beamed seeing McGee back at his desk where he belonged. He tossed his restocked go bag into the corner by his desk.

"McProbie! You've returned!" Tony greeted.

McGee and Gibbs both rolled their eyes.

"Yeah, and I brought donuts. Just part-time for now. Gotta get cleared, you know how that is," McGee said.

Tony nodded in understanding. He'd been through the process more times than he'd care to count. First was getting a medical clearance and Ducky's blessing, then came the dreaded psych evaluation. Tony could always charm his way through them, but he wondered if needed to give McGee some pointers to deal with the agency psychologists. In the end, re-certifying on the gun range was the easiest part of the process.

McGee was under both Gibbs' and Ducky's watchful eyes. He knew full well that until he was 100% cleared he would be chained to his desk. He didn't mind, and relished the change of scenery. Even with Abby gone, the walls of his tiny apartment had started closing in. The garish orange walls and open space of the squad room were a welcome change.

Malloy would stay on full-time since they were still a man down without Ziva. Woods would provide continued support and cover for McGee in the field for the time being. Vance's offers to permanently assign one or both of them to the team were immediately rebuffed. Each time Gibbs shot him down, Tony had to remind him of his reticence to ever work with Ziva, "assuming she gets out of the fucking mess she got herself into."

Abby had put in long hours over the weekend to get caught up with her work. All of the forensic tests she could perform, blood analysis, biological trace, and fingerprints were complete, save for DNA testing of the semen Ducky collected from Lt. Martell's body. All that was missing was a sample from a suspect for comparison.

She had already declared that the murder weapon was a tire iron. Years of experience matching dozens of implements against blunt force head wounds told her she was on the right path. She suggested to Gibbs that the murder weapon would probably still have minute traces of bone, blood and tissue on it that she could test to confirm her preliminary analysis. Abby was positive that the distinct deep ligature marks left on Lt. Martell's wrists and ankles were made by garden variety zip ties.

Gibbs placed a call to the Legal Department to request a search warrant for Stewart's home, garage, the grounds, and all vehicles. Based on Abby's forensic findings and armed with Malloy's notes from interviews with Lt. Martell's closest friends, Gibbs cited Stewart and Lt. Martell's often volatile relationship as probable cause. His gut told him that Stewart was guilty as sin for the rape and murder of the lieutenant, so he added a cheek swab for DNA to the request as well.

The team worked in silence until a staff attorney walked by and dropped a signed warrant in front of Tony. He ignored her smile and they way she swung her hips but managed a muttered, "Uh, thanks Kari."

Tony noted the time - 1600 hours - then handed the warrant off to Gibbs. Search warrant in hand, the team sprang into action, holstering weapons and grabbing their gear. McGee sighed and waved to his team as they headed for the elevator without him.

  
  



	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things begin to heat up for our two heroes. Will Tony and Gibbs be forced to hide their budding romance, or is it already too late to hide it from the world?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry for the long delay in updating! Real life issues plus the craziness of the holidays got in the way. I was also inspired to write a Tibbs Christmas/New Year story that I am also finishing up. Now, back to our story ... 
> 
> Disclaimer: Still don’t own. 
> 
> Warning: Still no beta. I have read through this many times, but I’m sure a stupid mistake or two got by me. Please PM me with any glaring typos or mistakes. Thanks!

* * *

With no answer to their knock and shouted announcement of “NCIS, federal agents!”, and no sign of anyone on the premises, Tony kicked in the front door. The door frame exploded sending shards of shattered wood in every direction. Gibbs, Malloy and a tactical team followed him in and fanned out, efficiently clearing every room in the small ranch-style house. On their way out the back door to search the garage and grounds, Gibbs dropped the warrant on the kitchen table and used a crusty salt shaker as a makeshift paperweight.

Malloy focused on the vehicles parked on the long driveway; a rusted out old Dodge truck, a faded Chevy Citation with three flat tires, and a dusty Triumph motorcycle. He called McGee to run all of the plates and was surprised that none of them were from stolen vehicles. Malloy then turned his attention to doing a careful search of the backyard and small shed, with the assistance of a few members of the Tac Team. The rest of the Tac Team spread out, disappearing into the landscaping as they created a perimeter to keep an eye out for Stewart while keeping neighborhood gawkers at bay.

Tony and Gibbs entered and searched the one-stall detached garage. Tony found a bloody tire iron leaning against the wall in one corner while Gibbs produced an open container of generic zip ties in varying sizes he found sitting on a small makeshift workbench. They bagged and tagged the items to preserve the chain of evidence.

Peeking his head in the open side door, Malloy announced, “Boss, Tony, looks like we got company!”

“What?” Gibbs asked before he and Tony followed Malloy out to the driveway.

“Stewart. He just ran into the house. Couple of those big guys went in after him. I didn’t find anything out here, but looks like you two got lucky.”

Tony and Gibbs held up their evidence bags to Malloy.

“We’ll search inside. You search his truck,” Gibbs ordered, nodding in the direction of a shiny red pickup truck.

Malloy resisted the urge to shoot off a salute as he walked down to the end of the driveway where the pickup truck Stewart had just arrived in was parked.

Apparently, every cent Stewart had went into purchasing the Chevy Silverado crew-cab or it was stolen off the lot. Unlike the other vehicles on the property, it was in mint condition. Shiny red and outfitted with every available option. An empty gun rack hung above the bench back seat. A search of the diamond plate truck bed tool box turned up nothing but a few rusty, mismatched tools.

Inside the house, Tony and Gibbs began a methodical search of the previously cleared rooms. Under guard, Stewart sat on the dingy, faded, floral patterned couch in the living room and made his displeasure loudly known. It took a big, meaty hand of Rick, the Tac Team leader, slamming down on his shoulder to shut him up.

“Took this off of him, Gibbs,” Rick said as he and presented a .38 to Gibbs.

Tony ran out to the MCRT truck and returned moments later with an evidence box for the gun. Gibbs cleared the weapon and secured it in the box.

“Oh, I got something, Boss!” Tony called out from a back bedroom several minutes later. Gibbs joined him there and found Tony holding up a gray hooded sweatshirt with a gloved index finger. “Stain on the sleeve - looks like blood. Want me to bag it? Found it lying on the floor. As you can see, Mr. Stewart isn’t much of a housekeeper. I’m afraid to even look in the bathroom.”

Gibbs nodded. A quick assessment of the bedroom showed an unmade bed, a dresser covered with empty soda and beer bottles and a heavy layer of dust, clothes spilling out of open dresser drawers, with the rest of his wardrobe apparently scattered on the floor.

“Yeah. We can do a field test for blood before we turn it over to Abby. We should probably being wearing HazMat suits in here,” he grumbled while Tony bagged the sweatshirt.

Holding up the evidence bag, Tony said, “Jesus Gibbs, it’s like this idiot signed his name to the lieutenant’s murder. Bloody tire iron and zip ties, a bloody gray hoodie - all here. And I bet we can lift a million fingerprints in here, though I don’t really want to touch anything. All we need now is a DNA match.” Examining the bagged sweatshirt more closely, Tony asked, “Think he might be the asshole who shot McGee and the others? This could be the famous hoodie all of the witnesses described.”

Gibbs shrugged then crooked an index finger and turned to leave. Tony dutifully followed.

Back out in the living room, Gibbs looked at Stewart with an almost evil grin on his face. No one else in the room moved as Gibbs approached brandishing a glass vial containing a long Q-tip that he retrieved from their evidence kit.

“Mr. Stewart. I am Special Agent Gibbs of NCIS. We are federal agents here with a search warrant. I left it on your kitchen table. We have searched your house, your garage and your vehicles. The warrant also says we get to take your DNA, so open up! You can do this the easy way and give us a cheek swab now, or we can take you in and get out the needles to draw blood and anything else we want later. Up to you.”

Stewart complied and allowed Gibbs to swab the inside of his cheek. Gibbs held Stewart’s chin in an iron grip and seemed to be taking delight in getting the cheek swab. Satisfied he got a good sample, he dropped the long Q-tip back into the glass vial and labeled the evidence sticker for Abby.

“Sorry, had to be thorough,” Gibb said around a smirk.

Stewart glared up at him but wisely said nothing.

“Truck’s clean. We done here, Boss?” Malloy asked as he stepped through the splintered remains of the front door.

Gibbs never broke eye contact with Stewart.

“For now. Let’s pack it up and get this stuff to Abby.”

“Wait, we’re not taking him in?” Tony asked.

“Not yet. We will though. When all this evidence nails him,” Gibbs replied.

He turned to Stewart.

“Mr. Stewart, I strongly advise you to stay put and don’t even think about leaving the state. Also, you might want to think about calling a lawyer. We will be back, with an arrest warrant.”

Stewart swallowed hard but didn’t move. He didn’t think it wise with half a dozen high-powered rifles pointed at him.

While packing up the truck, Gibbs pulled Rick aside.

Speaking loud enough so Stewart could hear he said, “Rick, can you leave a couple of guys here to keep an eye on him. We can’t take him in quite yet and I’m afraid he might bolt. I’ll send some other agents over when we get back, okay?”

Rick smiled.

“Sure thing, Gibbs. Hell, I’ll even stay and keep an eye on the little dirtball myself.”

* * *

It was 2100 by the time Tony, Gibbs and Malloy returned to NCIS and delivered the new evidence to Abby. Gibbs made his usual demand for impossible instant results. Abby countered with her usual remarks about how “science cannot be rushed.”

“Gibbs, you can’t cut corners with DNA. I gotta have at least 24 hours for it to be conclusive. 36 is best, but I know you want results yesterday. Sorry, but 24 is the best I can do if you want it hold up in court. I gotta test this other stuff and match it to what we already have. It’s gonna take me awhile,” Abby stated.

Gibbs handed over the vial containing Stewart’s cheek swab and a fresh CafPow! He kissed her cheek on his way out of her lab.

“Then I suggest you get to work. Call me the second you get something. I want this bastard to go down!”

Everyone was on pins and needles all day Tuesday. Malloy flinched every time a phone in the squad room rang. Tony tried to stay occupied with busy work, like getting caught up on months worth of expense reports he’d been putting off. McGee got caught up on his email and fielded “welcome back” greetings from dozens of co-workers. Gibbs sat and chugged coffee while waiting impatiently for someone, anyone, to tell him something useful. Abby threatened to quit answering her phone if Gibbs didn’t stop calling her.

“No amount of CafPow! is going to make it go faster, Gibbs!” Abby implored, her voice tinged with annoyance. “And if you keep bugging me, it’s gonna take a lot longer!”

All they could do was wait. In the meantime, fresh teams of agents were tasked with shadowing Stewart around the clock, making their presence obvious enough that he knew his every move was being monitored.

By noon Wednesday, everything changed.

Abby bound into the bullpen and announced, “Bam, we got him Gibbs!” Excitedly pacing around the bullpen, she briefed the team on all of her findings. “It’s definitely the lieutenant’s blood on the tire iron, 99 percent match that the semen Ducky found on our vic is from Stewart, and his fingerprints are all over the container of zip ties. They are generic, but an almost perfect match to the impressions.”

With Abby’s test results they had more than enough for an arrest warrant on Stewart. Gibbs called up to Vance who used his influence to get the warrant expedited. A quick call to the agents still tailing Stewart confirmed that he had arrived on the docks. He had been spotted going into the office of a local delivery carrier. They gave Gibbs the address.

Since McGee was still sidelined, it was up to Tony and Gibbs to bring Stewart in. The docks are never a good place to try and affect a simple arrest so Woods and Malloy followed to provide cover and backup if needed. They sped through the winding streets, struggling to keep up as they followed Gibbs and Tony to the location.

Tony, accustomed to Gibbs’ driving, cinched his seat belt a little tighter and said, “You know, I probably should have warned them they’d have to break a land speed record to keep up with you.”

The team following Stewart directed Gibbs and Tony to the dispatch office of the Capitol Delivery Company. As soon as Gibbs burst through the door announcing, “federal agents!” Stewart pulled a snub-nosed revolver from his waistband, turned, and opened fire in their general direction. The shocked dispatcher dove for cover under his desk. One round from Stewart’s gun shattered an office window. A second round ricocheted off the metal shop door and hit Tony in the left arm.

Tony cried out and scampered to relative safety behind a long panel delivery truck. He cursed under his breath and holstered his weapon so he could hold his right hand over the wound to try and staunch the bleeding. It hurt like hell and bled profusely, but he would live to fight another day. Sadly, his favorite Zegna shirt would not.

Moments later, looking down the barrel of Gibbs’ Sig, Stewart wisely dropped his gun and put his hands up. Gibbs kicked the revolver clear and barked an order for the terrified dispatcher to call an ambulance while he not so gently cuffed Stewart.

“DiNozzo! You okay?” Gibbs called out. He hoped his shaky voice didn’t betray him.

“I’m fine. Just got winged,” Tony replied through clenched teeth, unable to mask the pain. By some miracle he was able to stop a string of curse words from tumbling out of his mouth unabated. “You get the son of a bitch?”

Gibbs let out a relieved breath.

“Yeah, I got him.”

Out of breath and shaking from adrenaline, Woods and Malloy ran in with guns drawn and were left to calm the hysterical dispatcher, since Gibbs had Stewart cuffed and on the ground with a knee in the middle of his back. The pair exchanged bewildered looks; they missed the whole thing.

“Woods, DiNozzo’s been hit. He’s behind that truck. Go check on him. Ambulance is on the way. Malloy, go out and direct the ambulance in here. I got this piece of shit,” Gibbs growled as he pulled Stewart to his feet.

* * *

Four hours later, Gibbs drove Tony home from the ER. X-rays showed only superficial damage to Tony’s arm. He was fortunate that the small caliber bullet missed his humerus. Woods found the round that had struck Tony and bagged it as evidence. Had Stewart still had the .38 Rick took off of him, Tony’s injury could have been very serious.

Wound debrided and stitched up, Tony was sent home in a sling with a course of antibiotics in his discharge packet. Tony shot the doctor and incredulous look when it was recommended that he take at least a week off to let his arm heal properly.

“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen,” Tony snarked.

“I can write you a scrip, but I don’t think strong painkillers will be necessary unless you think you’ll need them,” the ER doctor said. “I don’t like prescribing them for minor injuries. Tylenol and ice should take the edge off. Keep that sling on, don’t overdo it, and you should be fine. You obviously know the drill; if it gets worse, or you see any signs of infection, or if the pain gets to be too much, give us a call.”

“Keep ‘em! I got plenty of Advil and scotch at home,” Tony declared as he slipped his arm into his bloody shirt sleeve and climbed off the exam table. Gibbs was there to make sure he was steady on his feet.

“I hate painkillers. Besides, it doesn’t hurt that much. Just throbs a little. I just want to get out of here. Take me home, Gibbs.”

Gibbs grinned and helped Tony into a wheelchair for the short mandatory ride to the parking lot.

“You scared me today. You doing okay?” Gibbs asked as he slowly pulled out of the ER parking lot. Tony looked at him and wondered why Gibbs was suddenly driving like he was carrying precious cargo.

“It’s not bad. I’m good. Um, how exactly did I scare you?” Tony muttered. He leaned against the passenger door and closed his eyes.

At the next red light, Gibbs looked at Tony and stated, “I saw you get shot, Tony, that’s how! You were lucky you only got winged. I wanted to put two in Stewart’s chest just for that.”

Tony was touched. Normally he would say something stupid like “Awww, my hero” in his best Melanie Wilkes voice but he felt such levity was out of place, all things considered. He turned his head and looked Gibbs in the eye.

“We got the sonofabitch, Gibbs. That’s what matters. We did our jobs, and with all the evidence we’ve got he’s toast. We can wrap up our case and maybe we helped nail McGee’s shooter, too. One way or another, Stewart is definitely going down. That’s it; no more bad guys to deal with. Now, the light just turned green so you can go.”

Tony pointed out the windshield earning a chuckle from Gibbs. It was a sound he wasn’t accustomed to and wanted to hear more. Tony vowed to make a point of getting Gibbs to laugh whenever he could, or at least smile; the man was way too damned serious all the time. Gibbs slowly pressed the accelerator and eased through the intersection.

Traffic was fairly light ahead of rush hour traffic. Tony didn’t protest when Gibbs turned left at the next major intersection. After all, he did tell Gibbs to take him home; going to his apartment would have required a right turn.

Gibbs was quiet, quieter than usual, all during dinner. Tony made several attempts to start a conversation on a variety of topics to no avail. Bringing up the “current stretch of lovely weather” only got an eye roll for a response.

Dishes done, kitchen tidy, and a movie loaded into Tony’s DVD player, Gibbs brought two cold bottles of beer to the living room and joined Tony on the couch. Before the opening credits to “Goodfellas” finished, Tony grabbed the remote and hit “pause”.

“Gibbs … Jethro, what’s wrong? You haven’t said ten words to me since we got home,” Tony asked. “Did I do something wrong?”

Gibbs cleared his throat as he turned to face Tony.

“No, you didn’t do anything wrong - except for getting shot. I saw you go down, Tony, and I thought the worst. Dammit, if Stewart wasn’t such a lousy shot I could have lost you today. Until Woods and Malloy got there, I didn’t know how bad you were hurt. It scared me, Tony,” Gibbs confessed.

Tony saw the truth in Gibbs’ eyes and frowned. It never occurred to him that Gibbs would be upset about a relatively minor flesh wound. It wasn’t Tony’s first field injury, and likely would not be his last.

“Jethro, I’m fine. Really, it doesn’t hardly hurt. See, I don’t even need the stupid sling. I’ve been hurt worse, as you know. It’s really sweet that you were worried about me though,” Tony replied, trying to force a smile.

“I’m always worried about you. I’ve never known anyone so prone to getting hurt or taking one for the team as you. And that stops now, Tony. I mean it. I can’t lose you now.”

Unable to respond to such a declaration with words, Tony leaned forward and placed a tender kiss on Gibbs’ lips. The movie was all but forgotten.

“What can I do to reassure you that I’m fine?” Tony asked softly.

Gibbs blushed.

“Go upstairs with me. Prove to me that you’re really okay. I, uh, I want you, Tony,” Gibbs muttered.

Tony sat back in momentary stunned silence. If letting Gibbs make love to him was what it took to prove he was okay, then so be it. To hell with waiting until the case was wrapped up. Tony grinned.

“Are you sure? That’s a big step,” Tony said.

“I know, but it’s important. I don’t want to wait anymore. Let’s do this,” Gibbs replied. “But do me a favor and take a pain pill first. It may not be a major wound, but you did get shot today.”

After washing two Advil down with a glass of water, they headed up the stairs. When they reach the bedroom, Tony turned down the bed while Gibbs turned on a bedside lamp. In the flickering light both men slowly undressed, giving and receiving groans of appreciation and delight as skin is revealed.

Gibbs gently pulled Tony to him and plundered his mouth in a searing kiss. Tony moaned into the kiss and they began to sway in time to their beating hearts. After several minutes, Gibbs steered Tony to the bed. Together they tumbled onto the bed and start making out in earnest.

Tony was a puddle of wanton need by the time Gibbs was done exploring his body. Hands and lips were everywhere; both men touching, tasting and teasing. Tony was about to offer himself up in blatant invitation when Gibbs made a request that shook his world. He couldn’t have heard the softly uttered words panted into his ear.

“Make love to me, Tony.”

Gibbs raised himself up so that he was looking down into Tony’s wide eyes.

“Just, go easy on me. I’m kinda new at this,” Gibbs said around a smirk.

Tony blinked several times. What?

“Wait, are you telling me you’ve never bottomed before?” Tony squeaked out. “But you’ve been with other guys.”

Gibbs smiled down at Tony hoping his eyes conveyed the want and trust he was feeling at that moment.

“Nope, never have. Yeah, I’ve been with other guys, but not that many and not like this. Never trusted anyone … until now. Please, Tony?”

Tony slowly rolled them so that Gibbs was beneath him. He leaned down and kissed Gibbs deeply. He had never felt so honored to be someone’s first since he took Cindy Miller’s virginity in the 9th grade.

It was Gibbs’ turn to writhe and moan under Tony’s loving ministrations. No thinking, just feeling.

“Stuff’s in the drawer,” Gibbs panted out.

Tony reached over and opened the drawer to find a bottle of lube and a string of condoms. Tony coated his fingers with lube and set to work opening and stretching Gibbs while muttering endearments and encouragement. He took an inordinate amount of time preparing Gibbs because the last thing he wanted was to make Gibbs’ first time bottoming be his last!

By the time Tony had finished working three fingers inside, Gibbs was begging for release. He hooked a leg behind Tony and rolled them so that he was straddling Tony’s hips. Chuckling at the look of shock on his face, Gibbs took it upon himself to roll the condom on Tony’s erection.

Tony nearly lost all control when Gibbs positioned himself over his erection and slowly lowered himself down. He hissed at the initial burn as Tony breached his opening, but Tony had prepared him well.

“You okay?” Tony asked.

Gibbs nodded causing a drop of sweat from his chin to land on Tony’s chest.

“Yeah, fine.”

“Here, let’s do this. Might be a bit easier for your first time,” Tony said as he rolled them so they were on their sides.

Spooned up behind him, Tony gently pulled back on Gibbs’ hip as he slowly surged forward. After several minutes of slow but steady progress, Tony finally bottomed out pulling a moan of pleasure out of Gibbs.

Gibbs began to meet Tony’s stronger and stronger thrusts until both of them were panting, cursing, and begging for release. Tony reached over and took Gibbs’ half erection in his hand and began stroking in time with his thrusts. It wasn’t long before Gibbs was hard and leaking into his hand.

“Damn, Gibbs! I don’t know if I can last much longer. You feel so good,” Tony growled.

Those words pushed Gibbs over the edge. His body was racked with pleasurable spasms and he shouted out his release. Tony kept stroking him through the aftershocks as he raced toward his own orgasm.

“So much for waiting until after we closed the case,” Tony stated as he stood under the steamy spray of the shower as Gibbs washed him clean. “You were wonderful, by the way. Are you sure you’re okay?”

Gibbs looked up into twinkling green eyes and smiled.

“I feel great. Never better,” Gibbs replied.

“Not too sore?”

Gibbs thought for a few seconds before responding.

“Sore, yeah, a little, but it felt so damn good I don’t care. Thank you, Tony.”

Tony chuckled and pecked Gibbs on the lips.

“Oh, you are quite welcome!”

* * *

Tony was back in fighting form in two week’s time. He decided to forego formal structured physical therapy and instead opted to keep a pair of 15 pound dumbbells at his desk. He did sets throughout the day to build back strength in his arm.

On their downtime they split their time between Tony’s apartment and Gibbs’ house. Slowly they realized there wasn’t much they needed to figure out. Their lives seamlessly fit together without either one of them having to make any big sacrifices. Tony worried that it was way too easy. Gibbs warned him not to go looking for trouble.

“Gibbs, it’s just that I’ve never had a real relationship before, with anyone. Not one that I cared about for longer than three-day weekend, anyway, and I’m scared. Scared that something is going to happen to ruin everything. Scared that I’ll do something to fuck it up. I don’t think I could just go back to the way things were - us just colleagues and friends, you know. Could you?” Tony asked.

Gibbs thought for a minute.

“No, and that’s why I’m going to do everything I can to not let anything or anyone ruin this for us. There’s too much at stake. If this ends up not working out, it will be because we both decided it wasn’t working or we weren’t happy. No one else gets a say. But Tony, you have to trust me when I say I’m not going anywhere. I don’t want anyone else. Hell, I’m just lucky you want an old rundown guy like me,” Gibbs replied with a shrug.

Tony smiled.

“Well good, because I don’t want anyone else either. Just promise me you’ll tell me if I do something or say something wrong or screw up. I don’t mean like slapping the back of my head, and that’s only allowed at work, by the way, but I mean actually talk to me. As for you being old and rundown … please. What do you say we go upstairs and I’ll let you prove just how hot and amazing you are,” Tony said, waggling his eyebrows.

* * *

Work meant long hours together, for days on end sometimes. When Tony got tired or extremely bored, he had to be very careful not to fall into boyfriend mode while at work. That was their only hard and fast rule: They were boyfriends at home, total equals in every respect, but they were still boss and subordinate on the job. That was the only way it could possibly work.

It helped that they had separate interests when they needed a little time apart. Tony still liked an occasional night out clubbing with Abby leaving Gibbs to work on his latest woodworking creation in peace. Whereas Tony loved all genres of movies, Gibbs was happy to lose himself in a good western or spy thriller novel. They rarely treated themselves to full-on date nights, but when they did they were special. Gibbs balked at dancing in public, but he had no problem holding Tony’s hand or stealing kisses when the opportunity presented itself. One thing they had in common was a love of music. Tony loved playing the piano, and Gibbs loved to sit and listen to him play.

They both knew what and who they wanted. They didn’t want to advertise their relationship to the world, but they weren’t going to hide it either. If people found out, they found out. If anyone had a problem with it, it was their problem. They wondered how long they can stay in their little happy, semi-domestic bubble before word got out or people tried to creep in. For now, they decided it was best to not overthink everything and let whatever happens happen. They also made a point of avoiding the really popular restaurants in the city where they might run into too many familiar faces, instead seeking out cozy pubs and restaurants a little more off the beaten path.

As the weeks went by, a buzz started building through the halls of NCIS. Tony found himself amused to be the subject of gossip for a change, but Gibbs was annoyed by the covert looks and whispers around every corner. A pointed look from Vance during an MTAC intel briefing had Gibbs wondering if he or Tony needed to start looking for a new job. He became keenly aware of the Director watching the team more closely than usual, but Vance never said anything. If he was suspicious, he did a masterful job of hiding it. McGee either feigned ignorance or he was simply clueless.

Gibbs thought seeking refuge in the sterile but friendly confines of Autopsy would offer him a reprieve from the gossip. He was wrong.

“Good morning, Jethro! May I ask what brings you down here so early this fine morning?” Ducky greeted.

Gibbs looked around to make sure he and Ducky were alone.

“Duck, you got any idea what’s got everyone’s tongues wagging around here but mine?” Gibbs asked. “Is there something going on I should know about?”

Ducky chuckled.

“Oh Jethro, my dear, dear friend. Have you not been paying attention to the scuttlebutt? You and Anthony are the talk of the town, as they say. The news of your wondrous, albeit sudden, relationship has spread through these halls like the proverbial wildfire. May I add my most sincere congratulations to the both of you. ”

Gibbs crossed his arms and asked, “Duck, what are you talking about?”

“Oh my word! Are you and Anthony not ready to make an official announcement yet? If you are not, I am sorry, Jethro. My lips are sealed,” Ducky replied with a knowing wink. “It’s just seeing the two of you together these days, well, it is quite obvious that there is something going on between the two of you; something I dare say of a very personal nature? I do hope for your sake you don’t do anything to drive that dear boy away. He adores you so, Jethro, he always has. You, my friend, have just been too blind to see it.”

Gibbs pinched the bridge of his nose to stave off what promised to be a massive headache. Time to change the subject.

“There isn’t anything to announce! We’re just spending time together, and that’s all anyone needs to know so just do me a favor and drop it, will ‘ya? Now, what have you got for me?” Gibbs demanded.

Ducky leveled a knowing look at Gibbs.

“My dear Jethro, I have no such intention of ‘dropping it’, as you say, but further discussion can wait a little while longer,” Ducky stated as he led Gibbs to an occupied steel autopsy table. “Ah, let us, for now, turn our attention to Marine Sergeant Boyd Timmons.”

Ducky pulled down the sheet covering the sergeant. His upper torso was riddled with small pieces of shrapnel from an IED used in training. That it discharged the previous afternoon was a tragic accident, but Ducky determined that none of the shrapnel caused fatal wounds. The real mystery was how a 9mm slug ended up embedded against his spine. That, and massive blood loss, proved to be the cause of the young sergeant’s death.

“Mr. Palmer took the bullet I recovered up to Abigail. I believe she is running ballistics on it as we speak.”

There had been incidents of random gunfire throughout the city in the weeks following the mass shooting. Until now, it was all property damage - shot out traffic signs, mail boxes, and a few car windows. With Pantangelo and Stewart in custody, law enforcement chalked it up to one or more copycats. Could Sergeant Timmons have just been in the wrong place at the wrong time, or was he targeted? He had been found in his car, parked in front of his house, with the driver’s side window shattered. Ducky placed the time of death between midnight and 2:00 that morning.

The bullpen was too quiet, and it was making Tony nervous. Woods and Malloy were gone without a trace, leaving a medically cleared McGee sitting at his desk staring at him with concern. Tony stared across the bullpen at the now desolate desk formerly occupied by Ziva and sighed. All vestiges of her were gone; her mere existence reduced to an unlabeled box stashed in the empty small cubicle next to Gibbs. It was surreal how the whole work dynamic had changed in the span of a few weeks. Tony didn’t think he’d ever be able to make sense of why Ziva had gone rogue or why she was hell bent on taking him down.

It had been left to Tony to start reviewing applications and personnel files to begin the vetting process for Ziva’s replacement. Finding anyone to live up to Gibbs’ standards was proving difficult. Out of the twelve files he had reviewed, only two candidates showed much promise. Knowing that Gibbs had nearly impossible expectations for his team and his reputation for being a hard ass to work for, they would likely have to find someone from outside of NCIS.

“Tony? You okay?” McGee asked. He stood and walked over to stand in front of Tony’s desk. “Let’s go for a little walk. It’s a nice day and I need to stretch. Doctor’s orders. Maybe we can get a coffee - and talk? My treat?”

Tony closed the personnel file he had been reviewing with a sigh and a nod.

“Sure. Just let me call Gibbs and tell him.” Tony pushed speed dial one on his cell phone. “Yeah, I’m gonna take McGee out for his morning walk. We’re gonna grab coffee. Want me to bring you anything? Okay, will do. Nah, we won’t be long.”

Tony hung up and looked up at McGee. “Lead the way!”

It was a warm, clear late summer day so McGee led Tony to a bench beneath a large oak tree. Tony sipped on his steaming coffee and noticed that McGee kept fidgeting and avoided looking at him.

“What the hell is wrong with you, McGee? You nervous about something?” Tony asked bluntly. “Whatever it is, spill it already.”

McGee slowly turned to face Tony. After a few false starts, he managed to find his voice.

“Okay. So, um, you and Gibbs?” McGee asked.

Tony chuckled and shook his head. He looked at McGee with a distinct twinkle in his eye.

“Me and Gibbs, what? Have you been listening to water cooler gossip again, McGee? I told you that nasty habit can be bad for you.”

“Come on, Tony. I’m not blind. Yeah, I’ve heard people talking, but you and Gibbs haven’t exactly been … totally discreet. Not to those of us who know you. I don’t know. You’re both different lately. The way you talk to each other and look at each other, and I can’t even remember the last time Gibbs smacked you. He’s, I don’t know, nicer, and you’re, well, not trying so hard to get his attention. You’re not as squirrly as you used to be. And I’m not the only one who has noticed there’s something hinky going on. Or … am I just an idiot reading it all wrong?”

McGee swallowed hard.

Tony smirked.

“Squirrly? I have never been squirrly, McGee,” Tony replied in mock protest.

“Okay, look. I guess we can’t keep it a secret forever. Here it goes. Gibbs and I got drunk one night and things went a little too far. I got pregnant so we had to get married,” Tony stated.

McGee looked at Tony like he’d lost his mind. Tony winced; the eye roll looked painful. How in the world could he say something like that with a straight face? McGee struggled to stammer out a follow up question, so instead he punched Tony in the arm - hard!

“Ow! Damn, McGee. Okay, okay. Truth? You sure you’re ready for this?” Tony asked, rubbing his sore arm and scowling.

McGee nodded.

“Okay. Look, we weren’t going to say anything to anyone. Right now there’s really nothing to tell. We’re not even sure what’s going on yet. We know how we feel about each other, but that’s about it. I guess technically you could say we’re dating or ‘seeing each other’, but that’s all I’m gonna say. We’re just two guys, friends, hanging out and trying to figure out some stuff. I don’t know what’s going to happen or where this thing between us is headed, but I do know I’m crazy about him. Always have been. You okay, McGee? You look like I blew your mind. You’re not freaked out, are you?” Tony asked.

McGee blinked repeatedly and shook his head. A moment later he looked up at Tony and smiled.

“No. No, I’m fine actually. Huh. I mean, you and Gibbs have always been close. I didn’t know how close, really, but I guess this just makes sense. And don’t worry, Tony, I won’t tell anyone anything. Who would believe me anyway, right? What with your track record of womanizing and dating every woman in the greater DC metro area. But, you know, I’m sure Abby already knows. I’ll bet you a month’s pay! She’s been bugging me about you two for years. She’s told me about a few fantasies she’s had. Trust me, I don’t need or want to know the details! Whatever you and Gibbs do, I really don’t want to know about it, ‘k? Just do me that favor? I’m not sure I can deal with imaging you and Gibbs, you know, doing it.”

Tony clapped and hand down on McGee’s shoulder and laughed.

“Sure. I’ll spare you the sordid details of all of our hot monkey lovin’.”

McGee groaned.

“Okay, come on. I need a refill and we better get back to work before Gibbs comes looking for us. You know that won’t go over well for either of us. Better get him a large brew just to be on the safe side,” Tony stated.

When they reached the security checkpoint in the lobby, Tony turned to a pensive, silent McGee.

“Hey! You sure you’re okay, Probie?” Tony asked.

McGee stood tall and replied, “Yeah. Fine. Um, I’m happy for you Tony. Both of you. I just hope things don’t get all weird now, you know?”

In the elevator, Tony hit the stop switch and turned to McGee.

“Yeah, and we’re going to do everything we can so things don’t get weird. Home and work will be seperate. I promise. I don’t want what me and Gibbs have to mess up the team. We still have jobs to do, dangerous jobs, and we have to be able to trust and count on each other in the field, especially now. You’re my friend, McGee. Hell, aside from Gibbs you’re probably my best friend. I don’t want to screw that up either. All of this shit that’s gone down lately, the fucked up raid with Ziva and then you getting shot just made us both realize what is really important. You sure you’re cool with this?”

McGee handed the large coffee he had bought for Gibbs to Tony and got the elevator moving again.

“Yes, Tony, I’m cool with it, told you I was happy for you. Just be careful, will ‘ya? You know I kind of think of you as my brother, my much older brother, and I don’t want to see you get hurt, that’s all,” McGee replied.

Tony snorted.

“Yeah, okay. As long as we’re cool. Hey, don’t say anything to Gibbs. I’ll tell him you and I talked. Don’t worry though - he won’t kill you unless you blab about us to anyone,” Tony threw over his shoulder when the elevator opened into the squad room and he stepped off.

McGee shook his head and followed Tony into the bullpen.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Many thanks to the few of you who have taken the time to comment. I really do appreciate it. And a big thank you to all who have taken the time to read, review, fave and follow.
> 
> Mysteries are solved and cases are closed. Can Ziva talk her way out of some serious charges? Can the team find a suitable replacement? Do they want to? 
> 
> Arrests. Plea deals. Trials. Convictions. Instead of sorting out multiple charges by multiple people in multiple jurisdictions (both state and federal), I am just using common D.C. charging/sentencing for everything.

* * *

It was over. All that was left was to deliver boxes of reports, interview transcripts and all of the damning physical evidence to the prosecutors. Gibbs signed off to preserve the chain of custody as the bonded courier loaded the last of the boxes into his truck. Both cases, the murder of Metro Officer Mike Rogers during the ill-fated raid and McGee’s shooting, were tried under state statutes. They were complex cases, both having a military connection, but JAG had signed off since Stewart was no longer active duty and the USMC was in the process of bringing up court martial proceedings to separate Pantangelo from the Corps. Faced with overwhelming evidence, both Ziva and Pantangelo reached plea deals with the prosecutors.

Ziva pleaded guilty to manslaughter for her role in the death of Officer Rogers. She was sentenced to fifteen years and a $25,000 fine. Add in two counts of aggravated assault on the FBI agents, that was another twenty years. Ten years of her prison sentence was suspended for agreeing to testify against Pantangelo. Ziva faced a total sentence of twenty-five years in prison and a $25,000 fine. She is required to serve a minimum of fifteen years behind bars. Then, upon her release, she would be immediately deported.

As hurt and betrayed as he felt by Ziva’s actions, Tony could not bring himself to pile on and have her held responsible for his attack at the hands of Pantangelo. Did she order it, or did Pantangelo just see him as a target of opportunity? Gibbs said he would support Tony’s decision no matter what. It was the puppy dog eyes of a wounded McGee that sealed the deal. Tony didn’t want McGee blaming him like he did after Gibbs left her behind in Israel.

Pantangelo pleaded guilty to one count of Murder of a Law Enforcement Officer (Officer Rogers), three counts of attempted murder (Tony and the two FBI agents), and twelve counts of Aggravated Assault for the mass shooting. The prosecution didn’t want to aim too high by charging him under federal terroism statutes. Federal charges would likely be brought later, if all of the evidence and testimony supported federal terrorism charges. Pantangelo was sentenced to life without parole for the murder of Officer Rogers. He faced a combined fifty additional years for other charges to be served concurrently. Numerous weapons and drug charges were dropped.

Stewart refused to accept any plea deals and was charged and tried for 1st degree murder for the rape and kidnapping of Lt. Martell, and one count of attempted murder for shooting Tony during his arrest. The blood on the sleeve of the hoodie recovered from Stewart’s house matched Lt. Martell. Stewart was convicted, thanks in large part to the wealth of information McGee had dug up during his convalescence, as well as a strongly worded statement by Gibbs. Abby, Ducky and Palmer had pulled together a solid forensic case and testified as to their expert findings. The jury was out less than an hour. It turns out Stewart had given Pantangelo access to the warehouse in Anacostia, which added a conspiracy charge. Steward was sentenced to mandatory life in prison.

* * *

After two weeks of hyper-vigilance, thanks to memories of the Beltway Sniper case, a group of four 16-year old boys were identified by a school friend they had confided in as the copycat shooters. More afraid of their football coach than their parents or the police, one by one they confessed to multiple charges of vandalism, mayhem, firing a weapon inside city limits, and involuntary manslaughter in the shooting death of Sergeant Timmons. As juveniles, they were each sentenced to two years in Juvenile Detention until they reached the age of 18. After that, depending on reports from the Department of Corrections, they would likely face additional jail time in a state prison and/or long terms of supervised probation, and be forced to pay restitution for all damages. How much additional jail time they received would depend on victim impact statements from Sgt. Timmons’s family.

In an open letter apology, published in the Washington Post as part of his plea deal, one of the teens wrote:

I swear we never meant to hurt anyone. To the family of Sergeant Timmons, I am so sorry for your loss and the pain we have caused you. To my parents, my little sister, my friends and teammates, I am really sorry for letting all of you down. I made some stupid mistakes and I understand that mistakes have consequences. I take full responsibility for my actions. I don’t know how long I will have to be in jail, but I promise to come out a much better person. Again, my apologies to everyone for the damage we did and the pain we caused. - Justin Billingham

Sgt. Timmons’s family were moved by what they saw as genuine remorse and contrition by the group of young men. They didn’t hide or lie; each one owned up to the part they played in the tragic series of events. They all took responsibility for their actions. In the victim impact statement read aloud in court by Sgt. Timmons’s mother Gayle, she asked for mercy on their young lives and their souls.

“Losing our beloved son and brother has been painful. More painful than you can imagine. But destroying whatever futures lie ahead for these misguided youth would be a travesty. We do not want the responsibility of causing further pain. As a family, we ask the Court to show mercy in sentencing.”

At the conclusion of Gayle’s remarks, all four defendants broke into tears.

* * *

“Can we have just a couple of minutes alone, please? Trust me, I have no intention of breaking her out of here,” Tony asked the prison guard while jerking his head in Ziva’s direction. With a curt nod the guard left, announcing that he would be right outside as he pulled the heavy steel door closed on his way out.

Gibbs has ordered Tony to take a day or two off to decompress. No matter their personal feelings toward Ziva, her betrayal hit them all, especially Tony, very hard. It always took him time to recover after a long case, and this case was no exception. This case put even his most dangerous past undercover ops to shame. Even with harsh penalties handed down and all of the bad guys locked up, there were a lot of unresolved issues.

Tony couldn’t make sense of how he and Ziva went from trusted teammates and friends to strangers and enemies. He had been aware of Ziva’s renewed attempts to challenge him and show him up. It had been happening for months, but there was no indication that it would escalate into direct violence. Tony needed closure, and he felt the only way to get it was to face Ziva alone. He hoped she had the answers he needed, but he doubted it.

So much had happened over the last few months that affected the team not only professionally, but personally as well. Even stoic and steady Gibbs found it difficult to process all of it. His famous gut hadn’t given him any warning of the coming storm. McGee had been spared a lot of the direct drama during his recovery, but over time Tony filled in most of the blanks. McGee was heartbroken when he realized the level of Ziva’s involvement. Abby cried a lot. Thankfully Ducky, with his endless pots of tea, was on hand to offer comfort.

Tony was prepared to face the confident and cocky Ziva David he thought he’d known so well, but before him sat a faint copy. Gone was the tough as nails ninja assassin. In her place sat a thin and gaunt Ziva, who looked like a shell of her former self. She often said she would never be taken prisoner, and now Tony understood why. Captivity did not suit a young, vibrant woman like Ziva; she looked defiant but broken.

“So, how are you, Ziva? I’d say you’re looking well, but …” Tony stated.

Ziva cracked a tight smile.

“I am well, all things considered. And you? I see you have fully recovered,” Ziva replied tersely.

“I’m good. Listen, I just have a couple of questions. I’m trying to make some sense out of all of this. First off … why? I’ve read your statements, the signed plea agreement, and all of the interview transcripts, but I just don’t understand why you wanted me taken out. I mean not kicked off the case, but taken out? Seriously, Z, what happened to you? Was Pantangelo actually supposed to kill me that night? You really hate me that much?”

Ziva sat stone-faced and said nothing.

“Wow, okay! Let’s try this. Why did you feel the need to sneak into McGee’s hospital room? Were you there to finish the job? Surprised you missed putting a bullet between his eyes like you Mossad types like to do? How did you even know he was there? Help me understand, Ziva,” Tony implored.

Ziva’s eyes were black and her expression gave nothing away. She sat up straight and looked Tony in the eye.

“I did what I had to do. It was a matter of my survival. I was trying to do my job, and yours. Pantangelo was stupid and did not follow orders. We had devised a plan. We would all get what we wanted and no one would be harmed. I did not mean for you to be killed or harmed, Tony, but I cannot change what happened. As for McGee, I saw news of the shooting. It was all over television and on the radio. They showed video footage on ZNN, and I saw you and McGee and Palmer. I knew where he would be taken, and I wanted, needed, to see for myself that McGee was all right. I have always thought highly of him, you know. I waited until everyone left his room and he was alone. I snuck in and whispered to him to fight and get better soon and then I left. I ended up at Gibbs’ house because I had nowhere else to go. Needless to say I was a bit shocked that you and Gibbs turned me in. I was not expecting that. I did nothing wrong, and now I am sitting in prison,” Ziva said as if giving a sitrep. No emotion, no remorse.

Tony sat back and folded his arms across his chest.

“You did nothing wrong? Hmmm...well, I beg to differ. I could run down the list of things you pleaded guilty to and how long you’ll be locked up for, but I won’t. Ziva, you were involved in a Metro cop’s murder. Murder, Ziva. You may not have pulled the trigger, but you set the whole thing in motion.”

Tony stood and began pacing and raging as Ziva’s betrayal sank in.

“Christ Ziva, if you wanted a bigger role in the op, if you wanted to be on the assault team instead of just following orders to sit in the back of the van and observe with me, why didn’t you say something? Ziva, we were partners. You and me. And I thought we were friends. I trusted you!”

Still no show of emotion from Ziva. Tony sighed.

“Did something happen to you in Somalia to make you turn on me and on your family? We’ve always been more than just a team, Ziva. You, me, Gibbs, McGee. We’ve been to hell and back together as a family. We’ve always been there for each other. Dammit Ziva! McGee and I literally put our lives on the line for you, to save you. Saleem could have slaughtered all three of us, at any time, but we thought you were worth that risk. Does any of that matter?”

Ziva’s dark eyes flashed, but she said nothing.

Tony shoved his chair back under the gray metal table and called out for the guard. He had nothing more to say. With a parting look of disgust, Tony left.

It took him a moment to catch his breath after the heavy metal doors clanged shut as he walked out of the prison and into the bright sunlight. He felt a sense of elation. It was finally over.

* * *

“You okay?” Gibbs asked as he flipped the burgers on the grill. “You know you didn’t have to go see her.”

Long legs stretched out as he sat on a chaise lounge sipping a glass of wine, Tony replied, “Yeah, actually I did. I needed to face her one last time. The drive out there was pretty much a waste of time, though. I asked her why she did it and she basically told me she did nothing wrong. You should have seen her, Gibbs. She looks like hell. She is not going to do well in prison, not for long anyway. She’s lost everything. Of course, she’ll probably be welcomed back into Mossad with open arms when she’s deported back to Israel. Gonna be a long fifteen or so years until that happens, though.”

“Come on, let’s eat,” Gibbs said as he carried a plate of thick, juicy burgers to the picnic table he had built at Tony’s suggestion. Tony had prepared a salad and had procured a bag of chips from Gibbs’ pantry.

Over dinner they discussed the case. With all of the recent insanity surrounding the team, Gibbs planned to march into Vance’s office and ask for two weeks off for the whole team, Ducky, Palmer and Abby included.

Halfway through his cheeseburger, Gibbs asked, “Tony. Whadya say we get out of here for awhile? Go somewhere. Just the two of us. Anywhere you wanna go.”

Tony choked on a sip of wine.

“Wait. Are you actually suggesting we take a … vacation … together? I thought you were a solid ‘no’ on vacations. I remember you saying something to the effect that they were a waste of time, like playing golf or watching paint dry.”

Gibbs grinned.

“Yeah, well that was then. And I think we’ve earned some time off. Everyone worked so hard on this case, both cases, and we’ve all earned a break. Whadya say?”

Tony beamed back at Gibbs.

“I don’t know. What did you have in mind?” Tony knew the answer would have something to do with nature like camping and hiking, or even worse, boats and fishing. He was okay with that, as long as it meant they could get naked and have some grown up fun, too.

Gibbs took a long pull from his beer.

“Hmmm…you ever been to Vegas?” Gibbs asked.

Tony was stunned to the point he couldn’t eat another bite. He pushed his plate away and focused on the glass of Pinot in his hand.

“Vegas? Are you kidding me? Yeah I’ve been to Vegas. Went about five years ago with a couple of frat brothers. Are you saying you want to go to Vegas?”

“Sure, why not?”

Tony threw his head back and laughed.

“Gibbs, you are not a gambling man, so casinos are out. I’m guessing you’re also not into showgirls and showtunes, so that’s out. Doesn’t really leave much else to do but drink and look at about a billion lights,” Tony replied.

“Well, then suggest somewhere,” Gibbs implored.

Tony thought about it for about twenty seconds.

“Hmmm...how about New York City? There’s so much to do and see. We could take the ferry out to the Statue of Liberty, check out the Ground Zero Memorial, we can check out Broadway, minus seeing any musicals or plays, or we can catch a Knicks or Rangers game at the Garden? Or, we could just walk around Manhattan and take in the sights … Times Square at night is pretty cool. Maybe head out to Brooklyn and check out some of the cool architecture. Ooooh, and we could stroll through Central Park! There’s museums, and …”, Tony suggested dreamily.

Growing up on Long Island, Tony took any chance he could find to go into the city. Manhattan was like a giant playground to him.

Gibbs interrupted Tony’s travelogue with a chuckle.

“Tony! Okay, I get it. If New York is where you want to go then New York it is,” Gibbs said.

Tony jumped up from his seat and pulled Gibbs to his feet and hugged him until both of them were lightheaded. They sealed the deal with a kiss.

“I always wondered if you were a closet romantic. I mean, any guy that can get four women to marry him has to have a soft side, right?” Tony teased.

Gibbs wrapped his arms loosely around Tony’s waist.

“I’m not a ‘hearts and flowers’ kind of guy, and in no way, shape or form do I think of you as a woman. I just know that you and me, what we have, is worth the effort to make it work. I know it’s too soon to declare our undying love for each other and look far into the future, but I think just getting away from all the distractions around here for a few days or a week would take a lot of pressure off both of us. You are worth the effort,” Gibbs declared, his voice softening with emotion.

Tony sniffled.

“Damn Gibbs, you got in me in the feels with that one. Okay, tell you what, let’s finish dinner, get this stuff cleaned up and I’ll start looking into flights and hotels. I’m thinking of leaving here on a Monday and then returning on Friday or Saturday? Does that work? Just tell me what dates to book,” Tony offered. “Oh, and just so you know, we’re splitting the costs fifty-fifty.”

Gibbs smirked and nodded. Like he had any intention of letting Tony pay for anything more than one fancy dinner.

“Whatever you say. Kind of short notice to go this coming week, so how about the week after? I’ll clear it with Vance tomorrow. I already planned on meeting with him. I don’t want us to get assigned a new case just yet. You know if we get a case we won’t be able to leave. Nothing but training and the gun range for us until we leave.”

* * *

Seeing Gibbs bound down the stairs with his patented half grin in place, Tony knew that Vance had agreed to give the team a much needed vacation.

“Yes!” Tony announced louder than intended, getting McGee’s attention.

“Huh? Yes what, Tony?” McGee asked.

Tony just smiled at him and winked.

“I’ll let Gibbs tell you.”

When Gibbs entered the bullpen carrying a stack of files, Tony asked, “Everything all set, Boss?”

Sitting at his desk, he shot Tony a look and whistled to get McGee’s attention.

“McGee, as of noon on Friday the three of us are on vacation. One week. Vance signed off on it. Considering the hell we’ve been through the last few months, you especially, I thought we deserved some time off. Take off all of next week. Add in two weekends and that’s nine days. Make the most of ‘em. Take a few extra days if you want. God knows you deserve ‘em. Until then, the rest of this week will be spent training, reviewing cold case files, and practicing at the gun range. While you two are busy with all of that, Vance wants me to look through these personnel files to find Ziva’s replacement. I plan to ask for your thoughts, too,” Gibbs stated.

“Sounds good, Boss,” McGee replied. He approached Gibbs’ desk and took a cold case file from the designated pile. “Not sure what to do with a whole week off. You got any plans, Boss? Didn’t think you were a vacation kind of guy.” Like Tony, McGee figured Gibbs’ idea of vacation would be to either hole up in his basement or find a nearby fishing spot to pass the long days.

Gibbs grinned but said nothing. Tony cleared his throat and joined McGee, who was standing at attention in front of Gibbs’ desk.

He took an offered file from Gibbs and said, “Well, Probie, the Boss and I are heading to New York City. Thought we’d take in the sights and hit all the romantic spots.”

McGee groaned. He really, truly meant it when he said he didn’t want to know any details of their relationship. Tony laughed at McGee’s discomfort.

Gibbs said, “Knock it off, DiNozzo! Leave McGee alone and get to work on that file. I want notes on those before you two go to lunch then I want your asses in the gym this afternoon. McGee, you up for any physical training yet?”

“Uh yeah. All cleared. Feeling good,” McGee stammered in response. He hoped he looked more convincing than he sounded.

“Good, then you and DiNozzo can work on your hand-to-hand skills,” Gibbs announced before turning his attention to the stack of personnel files piled on his desk. “Just take it easy on him, Tony.”

* * *

The clack of the steel wheels and the gentle sway of the car lulled Tony to sleep. Gibbs grinned at his travel companion.

“At least he’s finally quiet,” Gibbs muttered under his breath. Tony snored softly in response.

Tony had been bouncy and excited about their impending trip. He annoyed everyone, giving even Ducky a run for his money with his dreamy, long-winded ramblings. McGee kept getting up and leaving, and Abby punched him in the arm and told him to “shut up already!” He made lists and mental notes to himself about what to pack, he kept checking their travel itinerary, and he called Amtrak and the hotel several times to confirm their reservations. Gibbs did everything he could think of to distract him, but Tony even talked through movies … and sex.

“DiNozzo,” Gibbs grumbled for the third night in a row as he pulled out and rolled off of Tony. The incessant chatter in lieu of Tony’s usual dirty talk was a major mood killer. It was becoming a big problem!

Tony sat up and looked down on a prone Gibbs.

“Jethro, what’s wrong?” he asked.

Gibbs cracked one eye open and turned his head. Gaping at Tony, he leveraged himself up on one elbow.

“What’s wrong? I’ll tell you what’s wrong. I get that you’re excited about New York and all of that, but can you do me a favor and shut up about it for ten goddam minutes?” Gibbs asked heatedly. “I’m trying to make love to you, but all you apparently want to do is lay there and yammer on about travel plans!”

Gibbs threw the covers off and climbed out of bed. He grabbed his robe from the foot of the bed and shrugged into it. He belted it while he toed on his slippers and headed for the door.

“Where are you going? Look, I’m sorry, Jethro. Come back to bed and let me make it up to you. I’ll shut up about the trip. I’ll be good, I promise,” Tony crooned suggestively while flashing his most coquettish look.

Unmoved by Tony’s blatant invitation, Gibbs opened the door.

“I’m gonna go downstairs. Think I’ll sleep better on the couch.”

The door shut leaving Tony alone in the dark. He lay back and pulled the covers up to his chin. It was cold and lonely in the bed by himself.

Half an hour later, Gibbs was awakened by a kneeling Tony gently sucking him to hardness. All was forgiven.

* * *

They had opted for taking the train instead of messing around with flying. Tony had done a complete cost analysis and presented Gibbs with the pros and cons.

“It’s too much hassle dealing with TSA and all of that for a stupid one-hour flight. The train takes longer, but without all of the hassles. Besides, it’s cheaper - a lot cheaper. I’m not just talking about the tickets either. I swear, buying in-flight snacks and drinks can wipe out your bank account if you’re not careful! This way, we can just kick back and relax,” Tony reported.

Drinks and a meal were included in the ticket price for the 4-hour ride. It was relaxing as early-fall scenery passed by the windows. While Tony dozed, Gibbs pulled a couple of personnel files from his go bag. After careful review, he had trimmed the field to two possible candidates to fill Ziva’s spot; both highly trained and both former military. It was going to be a tough decision. He would discuss it with Tony on the ride back home.

Since Tony was familiar with the city, Gibbs had left it up to him to book their hotel. Tony had shown him room views and lists of available amenities. They decided on a king room in midtown Manhattan. He gave Tony his Visa card to book the room. Gibbs knew it would be expensive, but it’s not like the thousands of dollars sitting in his bank account were earmarked for anything. Unbeknownst to Gibbs, Tony upgraded them to a suite and billed it to his own credit card.

“DiNozzo! What the hell did you do?” Gibbs demanded when he walked into the suite.

Feigning innocence, Tony’s argument in his defense to the major upgrade in accommodations amounted to, “You know, with the money we saved by not flying. Besides, it’s my treat!”

Gibbs growled and shot Tony his most disapproving look.

The hotel offered a host of amenities, including free gourmet breakfast, free wi-fi and cable, a full gym, spectacular dining with panoramic views of the city, and an indoor pool and steam room.

Tony was like a little kid. The room had everything he wanted, paramount of which were a huge tile and glass shower and a hot tub. What first caught his attention, though, was the 46-inch flat screen TV he discovered while checking out a huge oak armoire in the comfortably appointed seating area. Gibbs was just happy to find that the room’s little kitchenette had a full sized Mr. Coffee and several packets of Green Mountain coffee. He set about making a pot while Tony explored.

* * *

After a quick breakfast, they spent the next morning walking up the street, window shopping and admiring the architecture. The hustle and bustle of the big city was dizzying. Tony’s only request was that he at least had to step in and pay homage to Barney’s while he was in town. Amused, Gibbs agreed and managed not to curse aloud when checking price tags. Tony managed to keep his purchases to less than the national debt, only springing for a new Zenga shirt for himself, to replace the one he was wearing when he got shot, and a whimsical pair of socks for Gibbs. They had boats on them, so Tony couldn’t resist.

Two blocks later, they decided to take a break and grab a light lunch. With shopping bags piled around their feet, Tony looked up from his menu to place his sandwich order with the waiter, only to find his father standing there instead.

“Da … Dad! What, what are you doing here?” Tony stammered out.

Gibbs sat back in his seat and took a long drink of his iced tea.

“Junior, Gibbs, it’s good to see you. In case you’ve forgotten I live here. I should be asking, what are you doing here? You two here for some sort of police thing?” Senior asked.

Tony, beyond mortified and nowhere near prepared to deal with running into his father during his romantic vacation, just shook his head. “This cannot be happening,” he thought.

Gibbs cleared his throat, stood, and shook Senior’s hand.

“No, Mr. DiNozzo. We’re not here for a ‘police thing’. We just finished up a tough case, you may have seen it on the news, and thought we could use a little vacation,” Gibbs replied. “Care to join us for lunch?”

Tony gaped and his eyes went impossibly wide. Gibbs just grinned at him. He knew Tony’s dad despised him and that he would never accept his invitation. The sarcasm seemed to be lost on Tony, who just slowly shook his head.

“Um, that’s really nice of you to offer, Gibbs, but I really have to run. Business meeting, you know,” Senior lied through his polished, capped teeth.

He turned his attention to Tony, who snapped out of his shock admirably quick.

“I wish I’d know you were coming to town, Junior. How about we have dinner … tonight? The three of us? My treat. I’ll call you later from the office and we can set up a time. I’ll take care of the reservations,” he offered.

Gibbs shrugged and Tony managed a slight nod.

“Yeah, sure. Why not? I guess we’ll talk later then,” Tony managed to croak out.

With a parting wave, Senior was gone right along with Tony’s appetite.

“Are you kidding me? Of all the places on earth, I run into my dad here?” Tony groused.

* * *

The dimly lit restaurant on the lower east side was obviously not one of New York City’s hippest or finest dining establishments. It was tucked out of the way and was absent the long line indicative of a more popular hot spot.

The decor was familiar; like Tony and Gibbs’ favorite Italian restaurant back home. It wasn’t flashy or highly appointed, but it was clean and comfortable. The aroma wafting from the kitchen promised authentic Italian fare.

After announcing they were with the DiNozzo party, the hostess led Tony and Gibbs to their table. Senior had chosen a table in the corner but in close proximity to the windows.

Senior arrived a few moments later and begged forgiveness for being late. He wasn’t late at all; it was just his smarmy default setting on display.

“I went ahead and ordered wine. Hope you don’t mind,” Tony said as he poured house red into Senior’s wine glass. Gibbs looked between father and son while sipping on a bottle of domestic beer. The tension was palpable. He knew all of the stories of Tony and his dad’s strained past, but he’d never witnessed it on full display. It was clearly evident that Tony was uncomfortable and wished he was anywhere else.

“Mr. DiNozzo …,” Gibbs began, only to be interrupted.

“Nonsense Gibbs, call me Tony,” Senior chided.

“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen. As I was saying, Mr. DiNozzo, you haven’t been to DC in a while. Hope everything there got settled?” Gibbs asked.

Senior had launched so many cons that Gibbs had lost track of them all. Tony looked like he was going to be sick. Senior flashed his most insincere smile.

“Fine. Everything is fine. Business is really taking off again. I’m doing quite well, many new investors. I’ve been meaning to come visit Junior, and to see all of you again, especially the exquisite Ziva, but with so many meetings I haven’t had time,” Senior reported.

Tony decided to bring the charade to a swift end.

“Okay, Dad, I have some news for you. First, the ‘exquisite Ziva’ as you call her is currently sitting in federal prison for murder and for attempting to have me and a couple of FBI agents murdered. She’s gonna be there for about 15 years or so. McGee, remember him, he was a victim too. Got shot in the mass shooting in DC. Maybe you heard about that? We were working a case when someone opened fire. Oh, and for a while we all had to be under 24/7 protection while Ziva and some other dirtbag were on the loose. Only good thing …,” Tony paused to take a drink of wine. A slight nod and wink from Gibbs gave him the courage to continue.

While Senior sat looking at him in abject shock, Tony went in for the kill.

“Good thing,” Senior managed to croak out.

Tony beamed.

“Yeah, really good thing, actually. See, Gibbs was my protection detail. I guess I was his, too. Anyway, we spent time together. A lot of time, actually. We pretty much lived together for a couple of weeks. Now, after all of the craziness of the mass shooting and Ziva out to get me, here we are. The two of us. Me and Gibbs. Alone in New York City. Sharing a suite. Not here on official business. Make of that what you will.”

Gibbs chuckled softly to himself before grabbing Tony’s hand under the table. She shared a look and a smile. Senior’s eyes widened.

“Wait,” he said before taking a drink of water to ease his suddenly parched throat. “Are you trying to tell me something, Junior? Are you hinting that there is something, what’s that word … hinky … going on between you and Gibbs?” Senior asked in disbelief.

Gibbs squeezed Tony’s hand.

“He’s not hinting, Mr. DiNozzo. He’s telling you. Yes, I guess you could say we are a couple. You got a problem with that?” Gibbs asked. Tony’s brilliant smile lit up the room.

“You see, Dad, I know what you’ve always expected of me. To be a DiNozzo man with a big house on the hill, a big bank account, a trophy wife and a kid or two running around. That’s why I’ve paraded beautiful women all over the place for years. Was I happy? No. Have any of them made me want to marry them? No. I’m past 40 and still single. Then, just recently I realized the one person who could be happy with has been here the whole time. Gibbs loves me and respects me, and I love and respect him. Is it gonna last? I don’t know, but I sure hope so. We’re gonna do everything we can to make sure it does. All I can tell you is that Gibbs is the most important person in the world to me, and no one else gets to have a say in it. Our friends are happy for us. If that’s going to be a problem for you, well, it’s been nice seeing you,” Tony scooted his chair back from the table and went to stand. A hand grabbed his wrist in a vice-like grip.

“No Junior, sit. Please.”

Tony sat back down and waited for his father to speak again.

“Look, I know I put pressure on you and I know I never fully supported your decisions. You’ve always wanted to be in law enforcement and I’ve learned to live with that. It’s not the career I would have chosen for you, but you have excelled at it. I spoke with your Director Vance. He had nothing but praise for you. I made a lot of mistakes, Anthony. I was never much of a father to you when you were growing up. After your mom died I wasn’t there for you. I sent you away to boarding schools and college. I married any rich women who would have me. I guess I expected you to follow in my footsteps, then I lost everything. I’m not proud of everything I’ve had to do to get back on top, so who am I to judge you?”

Gibbs finished off his beer and signaled to the waiter to bring him another while Tony sat transfixed, hanging on every word his father uttered. The last thing Tony expected was any show of support or even understanding from his father.

“Anthony … son … it’s going to take me a while to get used to the idea of this, you and Gibbs. I never realized that you, either of you, were gay. Like you said, there were so many women, and Gibbs … you’ve been married a few times.”

Tony chuckled nervously.

“Yeah. All of those women and wives are in the past. Neither of us is gay. The term is bisexual. We have both been attracted to women and men all our lives. I’ll spare you my stories. Anyway, I just want you to understand that for the first time in my life I’m truly happy. Like I said, our friends are happy for us. Vance knows about us and doesn’t care. Neither of us cares what anyone else thinks. What Gibbs and I have is just between us. Are you okay with that?” Tony asked, pinning Senior in place with a pointed look.

Gibbs broke in to say, “And just so you know, I do love your son. Tony has always meant a lot to me … first as a colleague and friend. He’s hung in there and put up with me longer than my last three wives put together, so that should tell you something. I will do my best not to ever do anything to hurt him. He’s my last chance at happiness, and I’m damn lucky.”

Tony was touched by Gibbs’ declaration and brought their clasped hands to the top of the table. Senior looked shocked for only a moment.

“Okay then, now that we’ve settled that, let’s eat. I’m starved. Dinner is on me, so order anything you like,” Senior offered.

The tension that had been hanging over the table lifted and floated away. Dinner conversation turned to Ziva. Senior listened intently as Tony and Gibbs told him everything. He peppered their narratives with “oh my Gods” as they laid out the case against Ziva and details of the raid, the mass shooting, and the manhunt. By the end of the story, Senior was just grateful that Gibbs had kept Tony safe.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We have reached the end, my friends. This chapter is a little longer, but I always have a hard time finding the end. I had hoped to make more song references (like in chapter 1), but the cases kind of took over. There is a bit of a shout out to chapter 1 at the end. Again, a huge thank you to everyone who took the time to read and review this. I had fun writing it. I am so sorry for not replying to all of your reviews. I read and appreciate every single one of them. Time just got away from me. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own any recognizable characters or places. I am making no money from this, and no copyright infringement is intended.
> 
> Warning: This chapter contains explicit sexual content, so if you are under 18 or you're not into that kind of thing, please don't read the first half of this chapter! You've been warned!
> 
> No beta! Sorry for any silly mistakes.

* * *

It was a beautiful clear summer evening. Rain that had been threatening all day never materialized. Standing on the sidewalk as the city bustled around him, Gibbs let out a loud, shrill whistle. Seconds later a Yellow Cab came to a screeching halt at the curb. Gibbs opened the back door and helped deposit Tony inside. They rode in silence all the way back to their hotel.

Gibbs had been worried since they left the restaurant. Tony's reaction to his father's apparent support of their relationship and walking back his past reservations about Tony's chosen career path worried him. Just Tony being rendered speechless for any length of time was cause for concern.

"Tony, you okay?" Gibbs asked once they were inside the elevator at the hotel. Tony nodded absently but did not answer. Gibbs cocked his head and frowned. Maybe once they were back in their room, alone, Tony would open up to him … maybe.

"Here, sit," Gibbs directed after getting Tony situated on the couch, switching on the TV, and handing him the remote. He returned several minutes later with two steaming mugs of coffee.

Tony finally turned and looked at Gibbs with a weak smile. He accepted the offered coffee, doctored to his liking with copious amounts of cream and sugar, and took a sip. He placed the mug on the coffee table and cleared his throat.

"Gibbs, what just happened?" Tony asked.

Gibbs shrugged.

"I'm not really sure. Are you okay, though? You seem a little … off," Gibbs offered.

Tony's eyes were glassy and he had a far away look.

"I remember being at the restaurant and eating dinner. You know how I love lasagna! Anyway, my dad was there and we were talking. You were there, too, of course. I was telling him something. I think it was something important.

Tony paused. His brow furrowed as he tried to piece together fragments he could recall of their earlier conversation. He gasped and gaped at Gibbs with wild eyes.

"Gibbs, did I just out us … to my dad?" Tony asked.

Gibbs chuckled and nodded.

"Yeah, you sure did. Pretty much told him off, too. He mentioned something about Ziva and then you started in and told him everything, about the case, about Ziva being in prison, McGee getting shot, and … us. I gotta say, he handled it pretty well. Better than I expected he would," Gibbs said.

Gibbs assessed Tony's reaction over the rim of his coffee mug as he took a drink. The puzzled look on Tony's face was priceless.

"But we never even talked about telling him, or announcing it to anyone for that matter. I never even considered telling him. I don't care what he thinks, but still. He didn't have a heart attack or disown me for good or anything, did he? This had to have at least seriously blown his mind. Why didn't you stop me?"

Gibbs shook his head and placed his coffee cup on the table next to Tony's.

"Why would I do that? Tony, you told your dad things that you've been holding in for years. I think you two may have actually cleared the air a little bit. He admitted he was a shitty father when you were a kid, and who was he to judge how you live your life now. Said he was wrong about expecting you to grow up and be like him. He knows you are really good at your job. Just said he was gonna need some time to get his head around us being together. Said he didn't know you and I were gay, what with all of your women and my ex-wives," Gibbs reported with a grin. "Don't worry, I think you explained the whole bisexual thing pretty well. I think you got through to him."

Tony sat stunned. How in the hell was Gibbs being so calm about this?

"Tony, it's okay. He's fine. It's all good. Your dad even sprung for dessert. Cherry cheesecake."

Gibbs continued to grin at Tony, his blue eyes dancing with a combination of amusement and affection.

"How can you be so calm? I'm freaking out over here!" Tony announced.

Gibbs took hold of Tony's hands and squeezed them.

"Why? We decided that no one else gets a say in our relationship. Remember? That it's just you and me and to hell with everyone else. Besides, everyone who matters knows and they're happy for us."

Tony nodded.

"Now, I don't know about you but I'm dying to check out that big shower and get our vacation back on track. Ya with me?" Gibbs asked, eyebrows waggling and dick stirring in his pants.

Tony grinned and jumped to his feet. He had been dreaming of this moment. Hot, steamy shower sex with Gibbs! He flashed his toothiest smile and practically dragged Gibbs toward the bathroom.

* * *

His head fell back with a thunk against the tiled wall. His legs were wobbly and his mind had short circuited, rendering him incapable of uttering more than a strangled, "Guh". Before him, Gibbs rose gracefully from his knees, smug smirk firmly in place, amid a cloud of steam to plunder his mouth.

Tony was grateful that Gibbs' strong hands and firm body kept him from collapsing as he came down from what he could only describe as 'the mother of all orgasms'. Gibbs had well and truly rocked his world. He may have been a novice at first and a bit unsure of himself, but the man had figured things out in pretty short order.

To Tony's delight, Gibbs didn't possess many inhibitions and had few boundaries. Inflicting pain was out. Tying up, dirty talk, employing toys, and the occasional spanking were in. Every night together in bed was an adventure. Gibbs was a natural top, which was fine by Tony. It made those occasions when Gibbs begged for him to take control and fuck him all the more special.

"'Ya okay there, Tony?" Gibbs asked as he reached for a bar of lightly-scented French milled soap.

"Okay? Jesus Gibbs!" was Tony's panted response. "That was amazing."

"I do what I can," Gibbs replied with a wry chuckle. He rolled the bar of soap in his hands to work up a rich later and set to work lovingly soaping Tony up. His fingers danced across the firm plains of Tony's chest and circled hardened nipples drawing a lingering grown in response. Tony was so responsive to even the slightest touch.

In such a hurry to try out the huge glass-enclosed shower, they had forgotten to grab a condom and lube in the rush to get naked. Tony picked up the tiny bottle of baby oil from the corner shelf in the shower and slapped it against Gibbs' chest.

"I swear to God, if you don't fuck me right now I will go insane," Tony stated, having found his voice.

"Tony, we forgot …" Gibbs tried to say before Tony grabbed the sides of his face.

He looked into Gibbs' eyes with such intensity that Gibbs swallowed hard. The trust and desire dancing in the emerald green spheres had Gibbs rock hard, leaking, and almost desperate for release.

"I don't care," Tony said in a husky, breathless tone. "I'm clean and I trust you are." At Gibbs' affirmative nod and smile, Tony said, "Well, okay then."

It took only a few minutes to stretch his already boneless lover. Facing the wall, Tony braced himself, opened his stance, and waited. It wasn't long before he felt the now familiar glide of Gibbs sliding into him and filling him.

They started a slow and sensual dance. Tony's moans and curses spurred Gibbs on. The pace picked up until Gibbs was slamming into Tony, who met every powerful thrust. Gibbs obliged, and after several minutes he came with a loud growl. He finished by biting down on Tony's shoulder leaving an impressive purple bite mark. Tony shouted out as he came weakly a second time.

Damn the exorbitant cost, Gibbs liberated two bottles of beer from the mini-fridge while Tony threw a bag of popcorn in the microwave. Washed, dried and wrapped in thick, thirsty hotel-issue bathrobes, they settled in to surf the channels on the TV. Tony tossed the remote onto the coffee table when he came across a rerun of a favorite "Magnum PI" episode that had just started. Cuddled up with Gibbs after a rather bizarre evening was a perfect end to the day.

* * *

Gibbs wondered if the old adage was true: 'You have to go back to work to rest up from vacation'. Tony had done a masterful job of playing tour guide during their time in New York City. They couldn't have asked for more perfect weather. Over four days and nights, they hit almost all of the go-to tourist spots. Gibbs' knees balked at the mere thought of climbing the giant spiral staircase up the inside of the Statue of Liberty, but he enjoyed the ferry ride and strolling around the island. Central Park, Ground Zero, and Chinatown were highlights. Gibbs especially enjoyed strolling the streets of Brooklyn neighborhoods and admiring the architecture of its famous row houses and brownstones.

They walked up and down Broadway taking in all of the sights and sounds, and got amused locals to take their picture in front of various theater marquees and landmarks. As promised, Tony didn't try to drag Gibbs in to see a play or a musical. Instead, they bought jerseys at Madison Square Garden and became de facto New York Rangers hockey fans. Neither of them knew the first thing about ice hockey, but they were quickly caught up in the excitement of the rowdy sellout crowd. They celebrated a Rangers win over the rival New Jersey Devils with high-priced beers and nachos.

The final day in the city meant shopping for souvenirs. Abby had warned them about returning empty handed since she, Ducky and Palmer were not given the same time off. Gibbs had tried his best to include them in his vacation request to Vance, but he was rebuffed.

"Gibbs, I can't send the whole damn agency on vacation at the same time. Other teams around here get cases too, you know. Sorry, but Ms. Scuito and Dr. Mallard will have to wait their turns," Vance ordered. It was hard to argue with that. It wasn't like they had a whole platoon of medical examiners or forensic experts on staff; they just had the best ones.

The train ride back to D.C. gave Gibbs a chance to get Tony's thoughts on the two finalists to replace Ziva.

"You know, I really hate that it's come to this," Tony muttered as he closed the thick file on Army Chief Warrant Officer Jessica Thompson. She had flown Black Hawks on support missions in Iraq and Afghanistan and has recently been honorably discharged. Married with a young son, she was looking for a new challenge that would keep her closer to home.

Tony stared out the window and mused, "I don't think what Ziva did will ever make sense to me. I never thought she would betray us like that."

Gibbs closed the file on Lieutenant Sarah O'Neill and sighed. She had just left active duty with the Navy, having served as a systems analyst. Sitting at a computer reading lines of code all day at the Pentagon was not very exciting. She wanted an opportunity to better serve her country, and she thought a career in federal law enforcement was the answer.

"Yeah. Me either. It wasn't easy replacing Kate, not that Jenny gave me any choice. She forced Ziva on us. We were mourning Kate and never got a chance to vet her. Not sure even McGee would have been able to find much about her other than what was in her official dossier, but we could have tried. At least this time we get a say in her replacement," Gibbs replied.

Tony leaned against Gibbs and put his head on his shoulder.

"Are you sure Vance won't let us just be a three-man team again, like it was with you, me and Kate? I mean, McGee's back now and good as new, so we don't need anyone else. We can kick ass with just the three of us. We managed just fine when you left Ziva on the tarmac in Israel, thank you very much."

"Yeah, but times have changed, Tony. Vance is under orders to keep a woman on the team. Why, I don't know. And this way you'll have a new probie to haze and boss around," Gibbs offered.

"Nah. It wouldn't be the same. Hell, it would be like cheating on McGee," Tony said with a laugh.

"Well, you, me and McGee are going to interview these two after I have him do a deep dive and pick their lives apart going back to grade school," Gibbs announced. "Not taking any chances."

* * *

The next few weeks passed by in a blur. Case after case, with interviews sprinkled in, filled their days. Choosing Ziva's replacement was proving to be a monumental task. Tony and Gibbs favored Chief Warrant Officer Thompson while McGee and Vance preferred Sergeant O'Neill. Different skill sets, but both very valuable. Both candidates had pleaded their cases and their records spoke for themselves. McGee found nothing of consequence in either of their backgrounds, save for a traffic ticket or two. It was going to be a difficult decision.

"Gibbs, I told you that SecNav wants a woman in that chair, so hurry up and pick one. I need your decision by the end of the week, or I'll have to choose for you," Vance demanded. He knew that if it were left to Gibbs, the chair would never be filled with an outsider.

Tony sighed and leaned back in his chair. Despite everything, he missed his old partner. He just wished he knew what it was that set Ziva down a path of self-destruction. It would be nearly impossible to find anyone with her weapons knowledge and fighting skills. Ziva was definitely good to have around in a fight! They had gotten off to a rocky start, but they had somehow managed to build a good working relationship and friendship, or so he thought.

After much discussion and debate the MCRT was once again complete. CWO Thompson and Sgt. O'Neill were thanked for their honor, duty, and service, but in the end it was Vance who made the call. Ziva's chair would be permanently manned by ... Agent Eric Malloy. He realized that having someone already known and trusted by the team was more important than being politically correct and replacing Ziva with another female agent. SecNav and other brass would just have to deal with it.

Woods and Malloy had been reassigned to what many agents referred to as "babysitting duty". They headed up protection details for visiting dignitaries and their families. They were a couple of the guys you saw every day on the news with their dark suits and dark glasses surrounding some big shot getting off of an airplane who was then whisked away in a stretch limo.

Woods had approached Tony after hours about taking Ziva's place. He had to admit that his short tenure with the team had been an exciting one. It would also keep him in town and he wouldn't be putting his life on the line for a bunch of strangers. Plus, he had a wife and family to consider. Tony was sympathetic but quick to shoot him down.

"Dude, I'll run it by Gibbs, but I guarantee he's gonna tell you the same thing. You do not want this. You think playing bodyguard is dangerous? Yeah, there is a slim chance that someone may take a shot or try to get to your charge, but this job? Seriously? Have you not been paying attention? McGee got shot. I got beat to hell and stabbed. Gibbs has been blown up more times than I care to count, and we face this every single case. You really want to put your wife and kids through that?"

Woods withdrew his name from consideration the next day.

"All right, Malloy, you're up. Park your trash and follow me," Gibbs ordered as he began to walk away crooking a beckoning finger. Tony and McGee grinned at Malloy's deer-in-the-headlights expression. Malloy dumped his jacket and lunch box on his new desk and dutifully followed Gibbs.

Malloy was put through his paces. Gibbs worked with him in the NCIS gym on his conditioning and fighting skills. Tony was his shadow in the field, monitoring and mentoring him on proper crime scene procedure. He was fine with bagging and tagging physical evidence and taking crime scene photos. He was also good at talking to witnesses and getting detailed statements, but his attempts at sketching the scene left a lot to be desired. McGee worked with him on encryption, records gathering, and most importantly on staying in the "gray area" when doing sensitive computer searches.

"You may get a get out of jail free card once, but don't expect a second one. Trust me, you do not want to have to deal with Fornell and the FBI if you get caught doing anything even remotely questionable," McGee warned just before hacking into an FBI database.

The whole team spent considerable time together on the gun range. As expected, an experienced agent like Malloy was a good shot. Tony, Malloy and McGee competed against each other hoping to garner a bit of praise or recognition for their efforts from the boss. Gibbs ruled the gun range! He didn't dare let anyone, especially Tony, get anywhere near his proficiency! If he did, he'd never hear the end of it.

Abby requested Malloy's presence in her lab and schooled him on her non-negotiable rules for dealing with and presenting forensic evidence to her for testing. His hand was slapped away repeatedly when he kept trying to touch Major Mass Spec. She ran down her credentials and impressive curriculum vitae during a dramatic tour of her lab.

"My lab, my rules, mister! You will learn them and you will follow them," she chided before taking a long drink from the large Caf-Pow! he had been advised to take with him as an offering.

Ducky and Palmer welcomed Malloy as an official permanent member of Team Gibbs with a pot of Earl Grey tea and shortbread biscuits during a break in Autopsy.

* * *

During his convalescence, McGee had befriended one of the realtors Tony recommended. She found him the perfect place. It had two large bedrooms, two bathrooms, a big living room, plenty of storage, and a good-sized gourmet kitchen with all brand new appliances and a spacious dining area. The steep rent increase was worth it. It was in a newer building in a nicer neighborhood closer to work. With Tony's help, Abby picked out furniture and furnishings, mindful of McGee's more conservative style; there would be no coffins, bats, or black lights. With his sense of style and a nose for bargains, Tony kept Abby in check and under budget.

Not wanting to waste a whole weekend moving McGee's stuff, Tony sprang for "Two Men and a Truck". In years past, moving weekend for one of them would have entailed copious amounts of pizza and beer for a whole team effort, but years of chasing down dirt bags, beatings, stabbings, getting blown up, and getting shot had taken their toll.

Once McGee was settled in, the new MCRT was assigned a challenging new case, and it wouldn't be long before they were once again making headlines. The team headed into fall with a twisting, turning murder case involving a young Navy doctor and an influential senator, the Ranking Member on the Senate Appropriations Committee. There were landmines everywhere - sex, money, high-society players, and power politics - and the team had to tread carefully.

Gibbs was ordered by Vance and SecNav to avoid reporters at all costs. He was by no means anyone's idea of a media darling. Vance would serve as the official spokesman for the duration of the investigation to ensure professionalism and diplomacy, with an appropriate amount of spin and deflection when necessary to keep NCIS in the best possible light.

His patience quickly wore thin. Gibbs knew that the senator, his staff, and his wife were all lying to him. It finally took threatening her with obstruction of justice to get the senator's wife to cooperate. It didn't hurt that he and McGee cornered her for follow-up questioning in front of several friends at the country club where she and her husband were members.

Perfectly coiffed and manicured, fanning phantom sweat from her ample bosom and sipping a tall glass of iced tea after a friendly tennis match, the senator's wife identified the victim from an autopsy photograph as, "Why that looks like one of the boys who played on our son Cody's baseball team. They were both All-Americans at the University of Maryland. Of course that was a few years ago, but I'm sure that's him. His name is Erik, Erik James. He was the catcher, I believe".

"Oh boy!" Tony muttered under his breath.

Two weeks of seemingly endless days later, the senator confessed to Gibbs and asked for a plea deal. After announcing that it wasn't their call, Tony followed Gibbs out of Interrogation, leaving their quarry stew for a while. Gibbs picked up the phone in the observation room and speed dialed the District Attorney's office.

No one wanted a long, protracted trial; it would likely be a career-ender for everyone involved. The prosecutor assigned to the case offered 2nd Degree Murder. With a nod from the senator's defense attorney the plea was accepted. It was a crime of passion. The senator had shown up for an afternoon rendezvous to find his lover, victim Erik James, in bed with another man. Once the other man left, there was a heated argument. A gun was brandished. A single shot was fired. It went straight into Erik James' heart. He died instantly. After appearing before the judge for his allocution, the senator was released on bail pending his sentencing hearing. Outside on the courthouse steps the senator and his attorney were served with divorce papers.

* * *

Tony pulled to an abrupt stop in Gibbs' driveway and gaped at the scene before him. He was on a mission to investigate why Gibbs had taken a day off without word one to anyone. Gibbs taking a three-day weekend was unheard of, even after closing a headline making case.

A transformation of the house and grounds of 505 E. Laurel Street appeared to be taking place. Crews of workers were everywhere. Commercial vehicles lined the quiet residential street; there were a couple of construction company trucks, a Home Depot delivery flatbed, and the panel van of an electrician Tony had never heard of.

Two new brick-lined, raised flower beds filled with fragrant rose bushes gave the front of the house a little extra curb appeal. Tony walked over and nodded to the two workers putting mulch around the new plantings. Another pair of workers were putting the finishing touches on new front porch railings and leveling the bottom step.

He crept around to the back of the house to find what appeared to be two new large rooms framed, and the joists for what would be a large deck jutting off the back of the house. All of the old overgrown shrubs and plantings, save for a large silver maple tree, had been torn out, and fresh soil had been brought in to build up beds in front of the new high perimeter fence. Evergreen bushes and a variety of perennial flowering shrubs sat in their plastic containers to be planted the following day. Solar landscape lighting sat ready to be installed as well.

Gibbs was walking in step and surveying the new backyard layout with a guy Tony surmised was the landscaper. He had noticed the "Sustainable Landscaping, Inc." truck parked in the driveway when he pulled in. When he noticed Tony standing at the backyard fence's gate gaping at him, Gibbs smiled and waved him in.

Tony approached with caution, mindful of the six-pack of bottled beer he was carrying.

"Gibbs … what the hell is going on?" Tony asked hesitantly.

To Tony's astonishment, Gibbs pecked him on the lips then waved his hand around. Gibbs was not one for public displays of affection, unless it was a head slap.

"Just making a few changes," Gibbs announced with a smile. "Here, let me show you around."

Gibbs stopped for a moment to speak with Tom the electrician, who would be returning tomorrow to finish wiring the new rooms … and to install power for the hot tub.

"Wait, you bought a hot tub?" Tony stammered out.

The impish grin in reply made Tony's heart skip a beat.

Gibbs led Tony to the front of the detached garage where building materials were stacked and secured, along with a huge new grill, a glass-top patio table and chairs, and the aforementioned hot tub.

"Gibbs, what is this all about? Are you having a stroke or a midlife crisis or something?" Tony asked with a chuckle.

Gibbs' mock glared in response; Tony beamed back at him.

With a shrug, Gibbs said bashfully, "Well, I figure you'll probably be spending a lot more time here, so I wanted to make it nice, that's all. Got plans for inside, too."

Tony sighed and pulled Gibbs down to sit next to him on a large pile of cedar plank decking.

"You don't have to do that. I love your house just the way it is. It's so … you. I don't want you to make any changes for me. I mean, adding two new rooms and this huge deck - and a hot tub? Gibbs, no bullshit. What's really going on here?"

"I guess I was hoping, you know, when it's all done you might want to consider moving in," Gibbs croaked out barely above a whisper. "I know it's not as nice and fancy as your condo, but you can decorate however you want. We can move all of your nicer stuff in and get rid of my old stuff."

Tony sat speechless and gaped at Gibbs.

Gibbs shook his head and frowned.

"Never mind."

"What? NO!" Tony exclaimed. "Geez, I'm just a little shocked. Did I hear you right? You want me to move in here? Are you sure about this? It's kind of sudden, and I know you like having your space. Is that what the new rooms are about?" Tony questioned.

"Kind of. Thought you might want a music room, somewhere to put your piano. I don't think it will fit in the living room with a bunch of furniture. We can do whatever you want with the other room. Home office? Playroom, maybe?" Gibbs suggested with waggling eyebrows.

Tony chuckled nervously.

"Okay, I gotta ask. Hot tub? I'm sorry, but you just don't seem like a hot tub kind of guy."

Gibbs shrugged again.

"Well, that's why I'm having them build a big deck and putting up a privacy enclosure. It will be secluded. We can have cookouts and have the team and friends over. Then, well, you and I can relax in the hot tub … just you and me."

Tony grinned at the mischievous twinkle in Gibbs' eyes.

"And by 'relax' you mean engage in some grown up naughty time, right?" Tony whispered in his ear, earning a shiver from Gibbs.

"Come on. Let's go put that beer in the fridge and talk. We can order pizza for dinner," Gibbs said as he stood and pulled Tony to his feet.

"You're awfully quiet. That's been happening a lot lately. You okay?" Gibbs asked.

Next to him on the couch, Tony nodded and tossed the crust of his third slice into the pizza box on the coffee table. The TV in the corner droned on, the news of the day ignored.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm, uh, just a little overwhelmed that's all. Gibbs … Jethro, I'm not going to give you an answer tonight. I want you to think about this. Think about what it would mean, really mean. Because, I gotta tell you, if we do this there's no going back. You can build me a mansion or a dusty one-room cabin in the woods and it wouldn't change how I feel about you. I want you to be doing all of this stuff to your house because it's something you want to do, not because you think it's what I want."

Touched by Tony's sincerity, Gibbs swallowed a lump forming in his throat. He turned and took Tony's hands in his and looked him dead in the eye.

"Tony, let me tell you about all the wives that temporarily lived here. One straight up said she wanted to move; she wanted me to leave everything, including memories of my girls, behind. Kept shoving real estate listings in my face. One wanted to tear up the backyard and put in a swimming pool. One wanted to gut this place down to the studs and start over. I said no to all of it. Even just painting the walls or buying new furniture. I guess I knew that it would all be for nothing, that the marriages wouldn't last no matter what I let them do to this house. They all wanted to change the house, and me in the process. Even Hollis, when I thought there was a chance it might actually work with her. They were all invaders. But with you it's different. I know you don't want to take over my life and change me or the house. And you wouldn't be. You would be making this place something it hasn't been for a very long time; you'd be making it a home."

Gibbs reached up and brushed away the lone tear running down Tony's cheek.

"Damn Gibbs," Tony said softly. "You got me with that one."

* * *

While managing a heavy caseload, the house sat empty for several weeks while painting and other improvements were completed. Most of Gibbs' older furniture had been donated to Goodwill. What was beyond use was relegated to the landfill. The empty spare room upstairs, that had once been Kelly's room, housed Gibbs' bedroom furniture and was now a guest room.

During rare periods of downtime between cases, they had given all the interior walls a fresh coat of paint, keeping the color palette neutral. The floors and all of the woodwork were sanded down, stained, polished, and restored to their original luster.

"No, no, no! The sofa goes here, and that chair goes there," Senior barked at the movers. It was finally moving day! It was just a matter of making all of Tony's furniture fit. That's where Senior came in. From the early morning hours when the moving trucks first showed up, Senior made it clear from his unannounced arrival that he was in charge. Gibbs retreated to the back yard while Tony did his best to stay out of the way. Big burly men toted his belongings in and waited for Senior to instruct them where everything was to go.

"Don't worry. We can move stuff around after he's gone if you want," Gibbs whispered in Tony's ear after venturing in for a coffee refill and to check on the progress.

Tony's move to Gibbs' house had been beneficial for Senior as well. He, or more accurately one of his companies, bought Tony's condo to be used as a D.C. home base. A team of decorators had descended on the place as the last of Tony's boxes were packed to begin measuring for new drapes and dropping off upholstery swatches. Tony could only imagine what he father would pick out. Senior was in town to oversee the final decisions.

Gibbs and Senior had reached an understanding somewhere along the way and managed to be a bit more than civil toward one another. Tony waited for shoes to start dropping or fists and bullets to start flying. No accord reached between a self-professed justice junkie and a con man could ever last. Then, a calming force showed up. Jackson Gibbs!

"Someone want to tell me what the hell is going on here?" Jackson Gibbs bellowed after stepping across the front door threshold and into the chaos.

"Jack! Oh my God, what are you doing here?" Tony asked excitedly as he led the elderly man out of harm's way.

"Tony, what's going on? Who the hell are all of these people? I showed up for a nice quiet visit with Leroy. He said we needed to talk. Where is he, and where is all of his stuff?"

Tony steered Jackson to the dining room table and offered him a seat. With the load-bearing wall removed, the dining area was incorporated into the newly expanded and remodeled kitchen, where a fresh pot of coffee was brewing. Tony brought a fresh black as tar cup of coffee to Jackson, who thanked him with a wink and a "Thank you, son".

Tony sat across the table and fretted over his own cup of coffee before clearing his throat. He knew he needed to choose his words carefully.

"Well, what's going on is, I'm, uh, moving in. Didn't Gib … Jeth … Leroy tell you? We hired movers to bring all of my stuff over. We gave Leroy's furniture away; donated most of it to charity. It was his idea, not mine! As for Leroy, I'm sorry I have to call him Jethro, he's out back. He went kind of crazy out there, too. He's getting ready to grill some burgers. Abby and McGee should be here soon. We're gonna kinda baptize the place with an impromptu barbecue. Ducky, um, I mean Dr. Mallard is planning to drop by. Jack, I'm so glad you're here. Come on. Let's go out back and find Jethro," Tony said before leading Jackson out to the deck overlooking the transformed backyard.

"Hey Dad!" Gibbs greeted with a wave of the spatula in his hand. "Good to see you. Come on out and have a seat."

Jackson shuffled over to Gibbs for the briefest of hugs.

"Son, what in the name of all that is holy is going on around here? Tony just told me he's moving in. And then he tells me you're hosting a barbecue. When were you gonna tell me about all of this, and what can I do to help with the food?" Jackson asked.

Gibbs closed the lid on the grill to let it heat up and motioned for Jackson to have a seat at the new patio dining table.

"The barbecue wasn't planned. Kind of just came up last night. The others should be getting here any time. I'll put the burgers on when they get here, and you can help Tony bring out salads and stuff when we're ready to eat. As for Tony, yeah. I, uh, meant to tell you about that ...," Gibbs confessed with a sheepish grin.

"So Tony's moving in, like one of your wives? Okay," Jackson stated without a hint of judgement. "You got anything stronger than coffee to drink?"

Tony stood wide-eyed and stone silent in the doorway. This is not how he imagined Gibbs outing them to his father would go down. He turned on his heels to fetch a bottle of beer from the refrigerator, hoping that would be strong enough.

Gibbs barked out a laugh.

"Like one of my wives? No. Like my boyfriend or partner, or whatever you want to call him? Yes. He's nothing like any of them, Dad. Unlike them, I actually want him here. He means a hell of a lot to me, Dad. You gonna be okay with that?"

Jackson sat and pondered the question for about five seconds before responding.

"Okay with it? Dammit Leroy, I'm just glad you've finally found someone who makes you happy! I mean, you must be over the damn moon since you fixed up the house so nice and did all of this out here," he said motioning to the deck and surroundings. "It's been needing work for a long time, been meaning to tell you. And I'm guessing all that nice furniture inside is Tony's? He's got good taste."

Jackson turned in his seat and called out to Tony, who had taken up his place in the doorway, unsure of what to do. Condensation from the frosty beer bottle in his hand dripped onto the top of his bare foot.

"Well, you just gonna stand there, Tony, or are you gonna hug an old man and let him welcome you to the family?"

Tony's face nearly split in two from smiling. He took two steps out onto the deck before he was pulled into a rib-crushing hug that would make Abby proud. Jackson released Tony, took the bottle of beer from him, and looked him in the eye.

"I just hope you know what you're doing. This one can be a right bastard, as I'm sure you know. Takes after me. Just be good to my boy, will 'ya?"

"I plan to, sir, always," was Tony's choked response.

* * *

Compliments about the house abound once the movers were gone and the dinner party was underway. Not standing on ceremony, everyone was free to look around at their leisure.

Abby and McGee had shown up with a variety of chips and beer, Ducky brought his famous homemade potato salad, and Palmer brought a couple of store-bought pies for dessert. Malloy had prior plans and called with his regrets.

Senior stretched out on one of the chaise lounges with a tumbler of single-malt scotch. Arm in arm, Abby and Ducky toured the backyard to check out the landscaping. Ducky was a master gardener in his own right and educated Abby about all of the beneficial plantings. McGee was impressed by the deck and asked Gibbs a hundred questions about it. He was surprised that Gibbs contracted it out instead of building it himself, but had to admit it was a pretty big job for one guy.

The patio table Gibbs bought accommodated eight comfortably. Along with a couple of chaise lounges and a pair of newly hand-crafted Adirondack chairs and matching accent tables, there was plenty of seating for a large group. Tony's contribution had been potting strategically placed containers of petunias and geraniums to add a bit of color.

Gibbs grilled hamburgers and brats while Tony opened a couple of bottles of wine, prepared a salad, and made sure everyone had their drink of choice. Surrounded by their closest friends and fathers, the awkwardness Tony feared never materialized as he played co-host.

Good food and drinks with friends made for a relaxing evening. By 2100 the party wound down. Jackson helped Tony find Tupperware for the leftovers. McGee and Palmer chipped in to deal with empty bottles and trash while Abby took dishes and glasses inside and loaded the dishwasher. Jackson and Senior had spent most of the evening sizing each other up before settling in with tumblers of cognac. Ducky joined the pair and regaled them with a favorite tale from his youth.

Later, Tony lay half draped over Gibbs in bed after coming down from an orgasmic high.

"Your dad is pretty amazing. He didn't freak out at all about me moving in, or about us. Has he always been that laid back?" Tony asked.

Gibbs nodded in the lamplight as he ran a hand up and down Tony's back.

"Yeah, pretty much. You heard about his old partner, Leroy Jethro, right? He was a black man and my dad's best friend. They opened the store together all those years ago. I heard it was kind of a local scandal at the time. My dad has always been open minded. He tells me my mom was the same way. Anyway, I know he's liked you from the first time you showed up in Stillwater. Seems like both of our dads are okay. Tough shit if they're not, but they seemed fine tonight. Maybe it was the booze, or maybe it was Ducky boring them with one of his stories, and they actually got along pretty well," Gibbs replied before dropping a kiss in Tony's hair.

"Yeah, well your dad's so cool. You know, I still have that sweater he gave me," Tony said before yawning.

"Yeah?"

"Of course. It's warm and comfy, just like you. Hey Gibbs, I was thinking. We should have done this in the hot tub. Imagine how much fun that would be! We should probably wait until your dad goes home, though, huh?" Tony asked regretfully.

Gibbs laughed.

"Oh, don't you worry. It's not going anywhere. I'm driving Dad home tomorrow, but I'll be home in plenty of time for dinner and hot tub time. Count on it."

* * *

The larger of the new rooms became Tony's music studio. In addition to his baby grand piano, a collection of acoustic and electric guitars in stands lined one wall. There was room for an overstuffed chair, end table, and lamp for relaxing and reading while Gibbs was busy in the basement or working late at the office.

For now, the second room was storage for boxes that still needed to be unpacked. Empty floor to ceiling shelves sat empty in the living room waiting to be filled with Tony's collections of movies, CDs and books. Boxes of framed photos waited to find homes. The few framed photos Gibbs had remained on the fireplace mantelpiece where they had always resided. A 5x7 silver framed photo of a beautiful young smiling Shannon holding baby Kelly that once adorned his nightstand had mysteriously gone missing. Tony planned to demand that Gibbs return it to its rightful place.

It had always bothered Tony that Gibbs didn't have anything on his walls. Save for the occasional light switch, they were completely bare. Tony thought it was taking minimalism a bit too far. He had plenty of tastefully framed posters and original canvases that he'd collected over the years to bring the walls to life.

Tony took advantage of Gibbs driving Jack back to Stillwater to hang his collection of artwork. He managed to locate a handful of large brads and a hammer from the workbench in the basement without much difficulty. He was able to display all of it without making the walls look cluttered. He'd unpack the boxes of DVDs and CDs tomorrow.

Gibbs arrived home with Chinese takeout and whistled when he stepped into the living room. Everything Tony hung on the walls looked like it was meant to be there. He was drawn to the music room, where he found Tony playing his piano. He was transfixed watching Tony play. The song was familiar, but he couldn't place it.

"You hungry?" Gibbs asked when Tony stopped playing and beamed at him.

"I'm starved!"

"Guess I'm gonna have to get used to hearing you play. You're really good."

Tony smiled at the compliment.

"Aww, thanks. I was just making sure the piano turner got it right. I think it sounds pretty good."

Tony got up and relieved Gibbs of the large bag from P.F. Chang's and headed for the kitchen to dish up the food. He stopped short of the doorway when he noticed Gibbs looking at the newest framed photo sitting front and center on top of the piano. It was a candid shot of the two of them taken years ago at an intramural softball game. Gibbs was correcting Tony's stance in the batter's box. They were both laughing.

"You remember that? I think McGee took the picture. Man, he was just a baby probie back then. Anyway, I think we were playing Pacci's team that day. Got our asses handed to us if I remember correctly. I found that with some other pictures that were in a box in my closet. It's a great picture of us, if I do say," Tony said. "Come on, let's eat."

Tony kissed Gibbs' cheek then sang a song on his way to the kitchen. It was the same song Tony had been playing on the piano when he walked in. Gibbs finally remembered it. It was a song he hadn't heard in many years. He couldn't remember who sang it; he'd have to ask Tony, but the chorus was familiar … "it's time for a cool change."

It had indeed been a year of change, so many changes. Most had been welcome. Gibbs still struggled with Ziva's betrayal and treachery, but on some level he missed her. He could never forget what she had done, or forgive her, but at the same time he felt he owed her thanks. If not for her scheming ways, he and Tony may not have ended up together. Gibbs smiled, realizing just what a lucky man he was.

Passing the living room on his way to the kitchen, Gibbs stopped and took a long look around. Tony's stuff fit in his house just like Tony fit in his life, and for the first time in many years Gibbs was happy, truly happy, and felt like he was home.


End file.
